
UN L ABE 







COMEDY IN 3 ACTS 



Translated and adapted from the German 



By 



AD. NEUENDORFF 




NEW YORK 

SIGISMUND VOYTITS, Book and Job Printer, 94 Fuiton Street 

1877 




Entered according to Act of Cougress, in the year 1877, by Ad. Neuendobff, iu the office of 
the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 



UNCLE ABE. 



€OmEDY IW 3 ACTS. 



TRA^SLATE1> AND ADAPTEI* PROM THE UERMAN 




AD. NEUENDOEFF. 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year i877, by Ad. Neuendokfp, in the office ol 
the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 



>1 






h^^ 



DRAMATIS PERSON^E: 

RICHARD CHASE, Cotton Merchant, a Widower. 
FREDERICK (26 years), \ 
PAULINE (19 years), > his rhildren. 

WILLIAM (16 years), ' 

ABRAHAM GRANGER, an old relation of the deceased Mrs. 

Chask. 

CHARLES RIVERS, a young Merchant. 

ELLEN NORWOOD (25 years). Housekeeper of Mr. Chask. 

JOHN, Servant. 



SCKiVK I— A summer residence in the vicinity of New York. 



TMP9o-3u73i9 



FIRST ACT. 



An elegant room, appropriately furnished. One door B. and L,, also one G. in 
in the background. 

FIRST SCENE. 

Ellen sits li., near a table. An embroidery lies near her, on the table. Sheun- 
icinds a skein of red icwsted which william holds out to her, standing in 
front of her. 

Ellen. — We better stop now, as you seem to get tired holding up your hands 
for sucli a long while. 

William. Tired ? me? How can you think that anything could tire me 
which I <lo for you ? I am ready to do anything you may ask of me. {Em- 
phatically) Anything whatever. 

Ellen {laughingly). — Anything whatever? 

William {in the same tone). — You don't believe me ? Oh, how I wish a fire 
would breuk out in this house to-night— 

Ellen. Nonsense ! 

William. -The flames ascend to heaven — the beams are in fire — the walls 
crack— you appear at the window of your room up stairs, crying for help, not 
knowing what to do in your anguish — the stiiirs are burning — every way of 
rescue is cut oft'— nobody dares to go into the house as it may crush him and 
you under its ruins at every moment — you are lost ! 

Ellen. Stop, stop ! the verj' thought of such an occurrence frightens me ! — 

William.— But no, I am there ! - I rush into the flames, hurry up stairs, take 
you in my arms, and can-y you out of the burning building — you are saved ! 
{Has unknowingly come nearer and nearer to Ellen, and is about to grasp her hand 
as if he was in reality trying to do of what he spoke.) 

Ellen {taking him by both hands, shoves him back to where he stood before; puts 
his hands in the right position again, and goes on icinding the worsted). — Keep 
cool, young mau, or we will have a big muss. 

William. Or, if you would fall in the water— Oh, I can swim !— how gladly 
would I jump after you— catch hold of you, and— 

Ellen.— You better catch a hold of the worsted in the right way first, because 
if you go on this way we will never get through with it. {Laughing) It is a 
curious desire of yours to murder me either by fire or water, I declare. 

William. — What, murder you ! oh, no, on the contraiy, save you from some 
frightful danger defend you against robbers — rescue you from runaway 



4 UNCLE ABE. 

horses — or protect yon against a mad dog.^ Oh, I always, at clay as well as at 
night, think and dream of it, in which way I could prove to you how much I — 

Ellen {Interrupilnrj him, and taking the worsted away from him, In a very senous 
tone). — That will do, sir! It seems to me that you have become somewhat too 
large to be considered a child yet 

William (provoked).— A child ? I'm no child any more ! 

Ellen {laughing). — Being fourteen years already' ! 

William. — I beg your pardon ; sixteen ! 

Ellen.- So much the worse ! That makes it at all imprudent for me to fool 
and joke with you any more. 

William (dejectedly). -'Really ? Then please consider me a child yet, and keep 
on being friendly and pleasant to me. 

Ellen (changing tone). — Do you read novels? 

William.— Yes ; why ? 

Ellen. — Because 3'ou seem to have acquired a great desxl from them. 

William.— Indeed I have, as I think a person ought to learn from whatever he 
reads. 

Ellen. — From the contents of dime novels silso V 

William. — Yes, even from them. Oh, Ellen, if you knew how I — 

Ellen ^interrupting him, very decidedly). — I must most urgently request you, 
sir, not to talk to me any more in such a familiar tone, and hope you will per- 
ceive that while I call you sir, you have to address me Miss Ellen. 

William (frightened). — Are you angry at me? 

Ellen. — You must not forget, sir; that as 3'our mother is dead I partly have to 
act as her substitute towards you. What would your fsxtlier say if he would 
hear that you talk to me in such a familiar manner ? 

William. — Oh, I'm sure j^ou'll not tell him about it. 

Ellen.— Or old uncle Abe? 

William.— Never mind him. 

Ellen. — Tell me, how is he related to your family ? I'm only four weeks 
in this house, and am not quite informed about all family matters yet. 

William. — He is a distant relation of my deceased mother, I guess, and lives 
in our famil}' very long already. My mother always used to call him uncle 
Abe, and that uaflie stuck to him since then. 

Ellen.- He seems to be a very good man. 

William (laughingly). — The best and most good-natured old man you could 
find. He'll do anything for a person he likes. Formerly he used to be kind 
of superintendent of Pa's oflfice, but since he has grown rather too old for 
actual business, and especially since my mother's death, he acts in about the 
same position in this house. Pa doesn't bother himself about anything but his 
business. Uncle Abe attends to everything in the house, is boss of the 
kitchen, cellar and garden ; keeps the daily expense-books, pays all bills, re- 
ceives the visitors if Pa isn't home— in one word, he is a splendid old man. 



UNCLE ABE. 5 

Everybody in the bouse likes him, aucl comes to him if there. is anything to be 
ju-r.inged or adjudicated, and especially if there is any interposition necessary 
between Pa and me, on account of any foolish trick Of mine, he is sure to do 
the work, and, generally, always succeeds in it. ( Changing his tone) You'll 
not need any interposer in this house, as your loveliness and grace even im- 
poses my stern and serene father. 

Ellen {very earnestly).- Sir, I have told you already that — 

William {fervently).— Fle&se don't be so harsh to me. Oh, if you knew what 
I feel for you. Miss Ellen ! How I think of you night and day ! How little I 
care for anything or anybody else since I have seen you. — How my heart beats 
with joy when you are near and speak a friendly word to me.— The voice of the 
nightingale and the language of flowers are not fervent enough to express to 
you my — 

Ellen {harshly).— Stoyi, sir ; this is enough of your nonsense, which, by the 
way, reminds me that I find a fresh bouquet of .flowers in my room every morn- 
ing without knowing who put them there. I'll not hope that it is you who, 
perpetrates this folly. Your father, as well as uncle Abe, have been lately 
talking very st-rlously of the plundering of the garden, and are most anxious 
to find out who commits that mischief. 

Wjlliam. -But, Miss Ellen ! 

Ellen. - So you are the plunderer ! 

William [imploringly). — Please don't betray me. 

Ellen. — You are doing very wrong to expose yourself to the anger of your 
father in such a way, besides putting me in a very queer position. What 
would your father say if he would find out that the flowers are in my room ? 

William {downheartedly). — I did'nt think of that. 

Ellen.— You ought to be more careful about what you do, so as not to com- 
promise other people by your fo(>lish pranks. 

William. -Forgive me. 

Ellen. — If you promise — 

SECOND SCENE. 

EiLEN. William. Eater Mb. Chase, Fredekic, Pauline and Uncle Abe, 
from G. Mr. Chase opens the door, overhears the la,H W07xls of the preceding 
conversation, and then comes forward. Frederic and Uncle Abe stay in the 
background, talking very busily with each other. Pauline comes slowly 
forward, 
Mr. Chase {speaking in a friendly tone to Ellen, and in a harsh tone to William). 
— He must promise everything you ask of him. 
Ellen.— Mr. Chase ! 

Mr. Chase. — Did you have to reprimand him again ? 
Ellen. —Not exactly, but — 

William looks imploringly towards her. 



b UNCLE ABE. 

Mr. Chase.— I suppose he has committed some foolish prank again, eh ? 

Ellen. — Oh ! no, uo. Your son only asked my advice in respect to what he 
should read, and I told him to avoid the works of certain authors. 

Pauline (haughtily, in a mocking tone). — Miss Ellen seems to be well versed in 
literature. 

Mr. Chase.— To be sure she is ! Miss Ellen is a well educated young lady, 
from whom a young girl like you can learn, at all events. 
Ellen (imploringly). — Mr. Chase ! 

Pauline (snappishly). — Really? Why, I guess I ought to go to school, at my 
age, yet. 

Mr. Chase (harshly). — Age !— what age? Nonsense ! You are nothing but a 
child, a young — well, never mind about that, 

Ellen. — May be Miss Pauline thinks it improper to learn from me, on account 
of my being only a servant in the house. 

Pauline (in the same tone as before). — Which is somewhat nearer to the point. 

Mr. Chase. — And which deserves a severe reprimand. I dont want you, as 
well as everybody else in this house, to behave towards Miss Ellen as towards 
a servant. She is to be considered a member of our family, and dealt with 
accordingly. 

Ellen.— But, Mr. Chase- 
Mr. Chase.- In which behavior towards you everybody has to concur, 
Pauline as well as anybody else. ( To William. ) Go to your room now, sir, 
and in the future behave yourself in accordance with what I said just now. 

William. Yes, father. (Ex-it C.) • 

Mr. Chase (to Pauline).— Xnd I wish you to go with Miss Ellen and finish 
your work of taking a household inventory, so that Miss Ellen can take charge 
of the whole and find out what is needed for the future. 

Pauline. — That is what I came here to call Miss Ellen for. 

Mr. Chase.— Well, then, go. 

Ellen (in a kind tone, to Pauline).--! am at your disposal, Miss Pauline. 

Pauline.— Come, then. (Both exit, R. ) 

Mr. Chase. — Frederic, go to my room, and wait there for me. I have only 
a few words to say to Uncle Abe before we go. ( Goes to the table L. , and takes 
up a newspaper. ) '* 

Frederic (who has overcoat and hat on, and a small traveling valise in his hand). 
— Very well, father. ( In an undeHone to Uncle Abe. ) I wish to speak to you 
yet, before I leave. Please don't go out. (Exit L ) 

THIRD SCENE. 

Mr Chase. Uncle Abe. 
Uncle Abe (an old, gray-haired, good-natured, careful, but still active man, fond of 
a pinch of snuff, comes forward). — Well, Mr. Chase, what is it you want of me ? 



UNCLE ABE. *j 

Mr. Chase {putting down the newspaper).—! wish to make you acquainted 
with several arrangements I have made lately, and, furthermore, with a secret 
business transaction in which I want your cooperation. 

Uncle Abe.— Secret business transaction? Arrangements relating to the 
household, eh ? 

Mr. Chase. -My cotton mill in Connecticut wants more attention than it 
lately has had. Mr Williams, the foreman, is a very reliable man; but things 
have happened there lately which prove that it wants, if possible, a man who 
is persouidly interested in the welfare of my business to superintend the 
whole. For that reason, I have made up my mind to send Frederic there to- 
day, and put the mill in his charge as superintendent. 

Uncle Abe.— Frederic? H'm, h'm, h'm ! 

Mr. Chase.— I don't think I can send a better man than my own son, who 
will most assuredly give his whole attention to the business, acting in 
some respects for himself as well as for me. 

Uncle Abe.— Certainly, certainly; but— 

Mr. Chase.— Well? 

Uncle Abe.— Poor Fred is back from his business tour through the States 
only a few weeks— just begins to feel himself at home again-and now you 
want him to go out there to that lonesome country place and superintend the 
workmen of that cotton-mill of yours. Don't you think that's rather hard on 
him, considering that he is a young fellow and wants to enjoy his youth ? 

Mr. Chase. -Youth is the time for work, old age the time to enjoy life. 

Uncle Abe.— I don't think he'd like the idea of going to that lonesome place 
very much. 

Mr. Chase.— Which is all the same to me— he will go there, and that's the 
end of it. You know I don't allow anybody to contradict me, and most es- 
pecially not my children. He can leave by the next train in an hour from 
now. I'll give him permission to come here on a visit every fortnight, which 
I think is sufficient recreation for him. I had to work harder than he in my 
youth, and was a poor devil, at that. Everything I call my own now I have to 
thank myself for, and my perseverance. 

Uncle Abe.- Yes, yes, thafs true. 

Mr. Chase.— Fred's room will not be occupied till I give you further notice 
about it. 

Uncle Abe.— All right. 

Mr. Chase. -The next thing I wanted to fcdk to you about is, that I'm very 
much annoyed by the perpetual plundering of our garden. Have you no idea 
who is that flower-thief. 

Uncle. Abe.— No, not the slightest. 

Mr. Chase. -I declare that is very strange, as you occupy the room in the rear 
part of the house fronting the garden. The theft is committed right under your 
wi-idow, one might say under your eye, which easily leads to the belief that 
you could detect and catch the thief. 



8 UNCLE ABE. 

Uncle Abe {laaghbigly^.—l'i see and catch the thief, with my eyes and my 
legs ? I guess you are joking Mr, Chase. 

Mr. Chase.— Consequently I think it's better if we look the gate of the garden 
fence at eight o'clock every evening, and let nobody in anymore after that with- 
out your or my permission. - Please to inform the gardener about it. 

Uncle Abe. —All right, sir. 

Mr. Chase. — And now let me tell you the most important. There is a big lot 
of cotton in Baltimore which, as I heard, can be bought ver^' cheap, because the 
owners of it are very much in want of money to meet various obligations. On 
account of the probable bad cotton crop which we will have this year, cotton 
must go up considerably in price, as well here as in Boston, and a fiue j)rofit 
can be made if I hold sufficient stock at that time. — Consequently I have sent 
my agent, Mr. Boyd, to Baltimore to buy up that lot of cotton there for me.— 
If he attends to his business properly, I will be in possession of it before any- 
body gets wind of the whole affair, and by that operation can control the 
market here as well as in Boston. Boyd telegraphed that he'll be back here to- 
day, I have instructed him not to come to my office to avoid suspicion, but to 
come here, give you a letter containing all the particulars of his mission, for 
me, and then proceed directly by the next train to Boston, to arrange that part 
of the business with our house there. The letter Mr. Boyd will give you for 
me is without an address, so as to avoid it being opened in case it should by 
any accidents come into wrong hands. -As soon as Mr, Boyd has arrived, you 
will please send for me and be sure not to give the letter to anybody else but 
to me. — You must be quick, careful and discreet about the whole affair, as no- 
body but Boyd, you and me know about it and an indiscretion could spoil the 
whole business. 

Uncle Abe. — You can rely on me. 
* Mr. Chase.— All right then. That was all I wanted to tell you —I'll now go 
and give Fred the necessary instructions for his new position and then ride 
down to my office, {Exit L.) 

Uncle Abe (escor^mj7 /iim to i/i,e door). --Everything will be attended to prop- 
erly, you may rest assured. {Coming forward again.) He counts and figures 
and plans, all the time, to increase his already large fortune, every day ! He 
ought to be content with what he calls his own already. Well, well, people 
with such a disposition must exist also, because, if everybody was possessed 
of such contentedness as me, nothing great would be done in the world. Poor 
Fred ! how lonesome he'll feel in that nasty, old, out-of-the-way cotton-mill 
place. Mr. Chase says: " Youth is the time for work, and old age the time to 
enjoy life." H'm! that's all very well, but the trouble is that nowadays youth 
wants to enjoy life so much, that hardly nothing is left for old age. 

FOURTH SCENE. 

Uncle Abe, William {through C.) 
William {looking through the door).— Are you alone, Uncle Abe ? 
Uncle Abe.— Yes, you little rascal. What do you want ? 



UNCLE ABE. 9 

William [in a dejected lone, while eulerinff).— Dear, dear Uncle-Abe. 

Uncle Abe.— AVell. what's the matttr? 

Wlliiam ipeltlag him).— ^Yon Jimst help me out ol" the scrape. 

Uncle Abe.— What is it, then ? 

William {anxiously).— I have to stay in school for three successive days 

Uncle Abe. — Keally ! On account of some mischievous prank again, I 
suppose ? 

William. On account of a mere nothing. The thing is, I would like you to 
arrange matters here in. the house in such a way that pa doesn't get wind of 
the affair. You know he is very cross with me on such occasions, and promised 
to punish me severely the last time I had to stay in school. 

Uncle Abe.— Yes, Yes ! the worst is that he'll miss you at dinner table. 

William.— Oh, you can say, I am invited to some other house for dinner, or 
that you have sent me out to get something. Please, dear uncle Abe, find out 
something to keep the matter down. 

Uncle Abe.— But tell me, Billy, when will you begin to behave yourself 
properly ? 

William. —Now, don't scold, will you ? but help me through only this time. 

Uncle Abe.— What is it you have done, then ? 

William.— As I said before already', a mere nothing. Our professor of Latin 
found out that, during the lesson, I had a novel under my bench, in which I 
read instead of reading in my Latin grammar. 

Uncle Abe.— And which is very wrong indeed ; especially as it was a novel 
you read. How often didn't I tell you not to do that !— You are too young for 
such books. 

William apathetically). -Oa, I know that you old people always insist upon 
the educ itiou of our minds, but forget that our young hearts also demand their 
share ! 

Uncle Abe (laughingly).— The heart ! What do you know of the heart ? 

William. — Oho ! You always talk as if I was a child yet, and forget that I am 
getting a moustache already. ( Prdting uncle Abe's finger to his upper lip. ) Just 
feel ! 

Uncle Abe {laughingly ).~-Yts, yes. It is glorious, especially if you take a 
magnifying-glass to look at it. Heart! heart! such a boy talk about his 
heart ! Ha, ha, ha ! 

William.— Yes, and with a perfect right, as the sweet secret has also crept into 
it already. 

Uncle Abe {still laughingly).— The sweet secret ! 

William (of ended).— Yon don't believe me? Oh, if you knew, uncle- 
Uncle Abe .s-erious).— If I knew? Now, look here, young man, don't you 
talk any nonsense. 

William. Nonsense, you say? What an expression for my— 



10 UNCLE AHK. 

Uncle Abe (intemipiing htm). — Yes, uouseuse. Those novels have put all that 
stuff in your head, I suppose? 

William. — I don't think it's necessary to read novels to get the voice of one's 
heart to speak. 

Uncle Abe {astonished). —Voice of the heart to speak ! And so you mean to 
tell me that you are in love with somebody. And with whom, if you please? 

William. — If yon promise to keep the name 1o yourself, I will tell you. 

Uncle Abe {im2XtUent).—Yes, yes. But who is it? 

William {as if whispering in his ear).— Miss Ellen. 

Uncle Abe (astoyiished). — Are you crazy!-' 

William {patheticaUy). —Who can command his heart? She is so amiable, so 
lovely ! her dear blue eyes are my heaven ! her voice is music to me ! she has 
captured vay heart and soul — 

Uncle Abe {stopping WUliam's month with his hand, laughingly). — Stop, stop. 
That's sufficient for one girl. And what does Miss Ellen say ? 

William.— How ? 

Uncle Abe. — Does she return your love ? • 

William.— What do you think, uncle Abe ? How could I talk to her about my 
love? No, no! it's sufficient for me to adore her, and to fulfil, if possible, 
every wish of hers which I fanc}" I read in her eyes. Oh, if I could only pave 
her path of life with roses ! if I — 

Uncle Abe {as if suddenly struck by a thought, catching him by Vie ear). — You 
rascal, you, have I got you now? 

William. — Oh, oh ! please let go my ear ! 

Uncle Abe.— No, sir, nothing of the kind. So it's you that stole all those 
flowers in the garden ? 

William {trying to stop Uncle Abe's mouth with his hand). — Don't scream like 
that; somebody might hear us. 

Uncle Abe {letting him go, and looking around, in a cautious /one). -Nobody 
else but you is the thief. 

William. — But, uncle Abe, I assure you— 

Uncle Abe. — Nonsense, nonsense ! I'm not going to be fooled by you any 
more. For this ti^e I'll keep quiet about the whole thing yet, but if another 
rose is plucked off again without my knowledge, I'll denounce you to your 
father. 

William. — Dear uncle Abe, please don't ! 

Uncle Abe.— And, besides that, it would be better for you to stick to your 
schoolbooks and not bore your head with novels. 

William.— That's the way you old folks are. As soon as the blood begins to 
run slower through the veins, you have forgotten that there was a time when 
it pulsed in your bodies like in ours, and commence to growl and scold about 
the feelings of our young hearts. {Light) But you are almost entirely an ex- 



UNCLE ABE. 11 

ception to this iuli% dear ancle Abe, and will surely see me all right with pa 
oil account of my having to stay in school for three days. ( Tragic) But she ! 
Oh ! it is fearful that I'll not see her at the dinner table for those three days ! 
Oh ! that's worse than hunger ! Her picture is engraved in my heart though 
I will think of her, and be happy. {Light) And about the flowers — I hope 
that I can rely ou you that it will be kei)t secret between us two. You see, pa 
hiis got his head full enough with his business, and doesn't need to be bothered 
with such nonsense. (Serious) But above all, remember that you have decoyed 
nie iuto betraying to you my secret —from your noble heart I expect silence 
about it; silence to everybody, even to her, my dearest angel ! {Light, giving 
Uncle Abe a kiss) And now, dear uncle Abe, good-bye. Remember, yon 
pledged yourself to silence —I have your word, and rely on it. Good-bye ! 
Good-bye ! {Ecit, runyiing off L.) 

Uncle Abe. —Here, here, stop, you little rascal. {Looking after him.) Fine 
boy that, full of fire and life (laughingly). And in love, too (dolefully) ! Yes, 
yes; it is a blissful time wheu the heart begins to feel the first emotions. 
Billy is too young for that though, at all events, and nothing but misfortune 
can arise from such nonsense —but no ! Miss Ellen is an honest girl, and will 
take good care that Billy is kept from mischief. At all events, I'll keep my 
eye ou the boy. 

FIFTH SCENE. 
Uncle Abe. Pauline from R. 

Pauline (looking through the door).— Uncle Abe ! 

Uncle Abe (turning around). — Eh? 

Pauline. Pst ! 

Uncle Abe.— Well? 

Pauline.— Is Pa in his room yet ? 

Uncle Abe.— Yes. 

Pauline (coming out). — Let us be careful then. 

Uncle Abe. — Very well ; but what is the matter ? 

Pauline. — I want to make you my confidant. 

Uncle Abe (inquisitively) —Yonr confidant ? 

Pauline nods. 
Uncle Abe.— Well, then, go ahead and let me hear your secret. 
Pauline (asha,med).— Oh, I couldn't tell you. 
Uncle Abe.— How? 
Pauline.— Must I say what it is ? 

Uncle Abe.— Certainly ! How else could you make me your confidant ? 
Pauline.— But didn't you notice yet what is the matter? 
Uncle Abe.— Notice ? What? 



12 UNCLE ABE. 

Pauline {sighing). —Ah ! 

Uncle Abe {imitating her).— Ah !— What do you mean by ah? I don't under- 
stand you. 

Paulina. — Well, then, if it must be, I'll tell you. But you must turn around 
{turna hirn around) and not look at me. ( Whispering in his ear) I'm in love. 

Uncle Abe (bursting out in a loud laugh). — In love ? 

Pauline {shutting his mouth with her hand). — Please don't scream as loud as 
that, somebody might hear us. 

Uncle Abe {astonished).— In love? 

Pauline.— Yes, in love. 

Uncle Abe {chuckling). — Well, well, I declare. But let me examiue you once 
how you look when you are in love ! 

Pauline. -Oh, how naughty you are, uucle Abe. 

Uncle Abe (good-naturedly). — Never mind that, my dear ; but tell me who is 
your sweetheart? 

Pauline. —Who ? I thought you had noticed that already. 

Uncle Abe (simply). —l^o, I didn't notice anything. 

Pauline (whispering in his ear). — It's Charles. 

Uncle Abe.— Charles who ? 

Pauline (impatiently). —Elvers ! 

Uncle Abe.— Kivers? Is his name Charles ? 

Pauline.— Yes. 

Uncle Abe. — I didn't know that ! Well, well, you are right, I could have no- 
ticed that, the more so as he is a fine good-looking fellow. But tell me. how is 
it that he shows so many courtesies to Miss Ellen ? 

Pauline.— Oh, that's only a trick. 

Uncle Abe.— A trick? 

Pauline.— Yes. You see, we know each other six weeks, and since three 
weeks he has declared his love to me. Mr. Rivers is a young merchant who 
does a fair business, but for the reason that Pa, as j ou know, is very proud of 
his riches, which he has accumulated by his own labor and perseverance, we 
never had the courage to confess our love to him, as Mr. Rivers' business was 
not so extremely h%crative yet, Ouce I undertook to find out Pa's idea about 
my marriage, and saw that my fear was entirely justified. He said his son-in- 
law must, at all events, be in the same financial position as he, and that he 
would never give his consent to a marriage if the young man wasn't backed up 
by sufficient means. 

Uncle Abe.— Oh, yes ; I know his ideas about that point. 

Pauline.— And now what shall we do ? Hope, and wait ? 

Uncle Abe. — A very hard task for a young loving couple. 

Pauline. — Isn't it? But you must help us, dear good uncle Abe, 

Uncle Abe. -I ? How can I ? —if I only had money enough— 



UNCLE ABE. 13 

Pauline. — No, no ; not so ! You must try to bring Pu around to our wishes. 
You must, now and then, drop a word about Charles ; tell Pa what a nice and 
and good young fellow Charley is— he really is a good young fellow. I assure 

J'OU. 

Uncle Abe.— Indeed ? 

Pauline. Yes. That is, in one point, I don't know exactly if I can trust 
him. 

Uncle Abe. How is that ? 

Pauline. -You sliall know everything. Pa could have easily got suspicious 
if Charley would have come so very often after I had tried to find out pa's 
ideas about my marriage, and so we agreed that, to avoid such suspicion, he 
should try to make believe that he was courting Ellen. 

Uncle Abe. "Aha! 

Pauline. — But sometimes it seems to me as if— 

Uncle Abe {mocJdngly interrnpthuj /ier).— Charles' ''make believe'' was too 
natural. 

Pauline.— Just so ! 

Uncle Abe.— And that his love-making to Ellen was in earnest? 
Pauline {hastily).— Which you have observed, eh ? Oh, how right I was in 
my suppositions ! 

Uncle Abe. — And so you are jealous of Miss Ellen ? 

Pauline {haugJitily). Jealous of Miss Ellen ? oh, no ! But she seems to be 
very coquettish — and wlio knows if she doesn't try to entangle Charley into her 
net. 

Uncle Abe {doubtfully). -Misn Ellen coquettish ? Nonsense ! 

Pauline {angrily). — Yes, she is so ! It seems very funny to me that you also 
try to defend her, like pa, who seems to be quite charmed with her. 

Uncle Abe {laughingly). — Yes, yes, she has charmed the whole male portion of 
the house. 

Pauline. — And I think it's very naughty of you to laugh and joke while I 
come here to ask your advice and help. 

Uncle Abe. — But what shall I do for you my dear child ? 

Pauline.— Help me, and give me advice to get out of my trouble. Observe 
Ellen, and tell me if you think she is acting wrong ; and if pa begins to get 
suspicious, try to dispel his suspicions, and, above all, if Charley and I want 
to see each other alone once — 

Uncle Abe. — I shall try and arrange an interview, eh ? 

Pauline. -Yes, dear uncle Abe, 

Uncle Abe.— No, child ; my conscience wouldn't permit me to do any such 
thing. 

Pauline.— Which is very wrong ; because if you feel the least interest in mine 
and Charley's welfare, you ought to do everything to help us along. Pa's oppo- 
sition is only based on prejudice, and pr>^judices must not be tolerated. 



14 UNCLE ABE. 

Uncle Abe. — Ob, you little witcb, how nice she knows how to put her cause 
in the right light. 

Pauline {coaxmgly) — Now, please, dear uncle Abe, tell me if I have done 
wrong to intrust my secret to you, and if you'll help me along V 

Uncle Abe. — Hush, my dear ; I hear your father coming. 

Pauline. — Quick, uncle Abe, give me your hand and word that j'ou'll help us 

Uncle Abe.— Well, I'll consider the matter. 

Pauline. — No, no, I want your hand ! You promise silence and help ? 

Uncle Abe. — All right, then ; here it is. 

Pauline.— Oh, now- everything is all right {kisses him, and exit C). 

Uncle Abe.— Hm, hm— Charles Rivers Everybody talks well of him.— And 
then she is right when she says that her father is full of prejudices. — Well, I'll 
see what I can do. 

SIXTH SCENE. 

Uncle Abe. Enter Mr. Chase {from L). 

Mr. Chase {with hat and cane, talking back into the room from where he comes). 
— Good b}^ my boy. Take good care of yourself {advancimj as if to leave the 
room through C). {To uncle Ahe) Fred is packing his trunk, and will depart 
in a short time. 

Uncle Abe.— Very well. 

Mr. Chase.— And what I told you before— 

Uncle Abe.— Will be attended to. 

Mr. C\\?i^e {while walking to the door: , turns and comes back to uncle Abe -in a 
pleasant tone).— Uncle Abe, I have to confide something else to you yet. 

Uncle Abe {laughingly). So ? Well, go ahead, as I'm in it once. 

Mr. Chase.— In what? 

Uncle Abe.— In the confidence. 

Mr. Chase.— How so ? 

Uncle Abe {noticing that he has said rather too much). — H'm ! I mean that you 
have told me several other confidential things already. 

Mr. Chase. — Ai ! yes. {Playing wiih his cane. Tn an embarrassed Ume). Tell 
me, how do you like our new housekeeper ? 

Uncle Abe.— Miss Ellen ? 

Mr. Chase.— Yes. 

Uncle Abe. — Well, I think she is pretty good-looking. 

Mr. Chase.— Only good looking ! I think she is beautiful. 

Uncle Abe.— Indeed ? 

Mr. Chase.— Did you notice that beautiful foot of hers? the delicate hand? 
—her graceful bearing? -that splendid eye? 



UNCLE ABB. 15 

Uncle Abe (astonished). But, Mr. Chase — 

Mr. Chase.— Oh ! I know what you want to say ! Although I'm not a 
yonng man any more, I take a great interest iu her and her welfare. She is 
the perfection of woman, in my eyes. 

Uncle Abe (bursting out in a laughing tone).— Well, I declare ! Father and 
son ! (Shuts his mouth iclth his hand, as if it suddenly strikes him that he has be- 
trayed himself. ) 

Mr. Chase (catching his arm. In a very hasty and whispering tone). So you 
have noticed, also ? 

Uncle Abe (embarrassed).— What ? I haven't noticed anything. 

Mr. Chase. — That Fred always looks at her in a very suspicious manner. 

Uncle Abe (astonished). —Frederic ! (Aside) What does he mean by that? 

Mr. Chase.— Yes, Frederic ! Oh ! I have good eyes, and see everything. I 
have noticed a long time already that an intimacy is growing up between him 
and Ellen, and that's the reason I send him to the cotton mill. 

Uncle Abe.— Aha ! that's what's the matter ? 

Mr. Chase (embarrassed because he has betrayed himself).— ^ot exactly that 
alone; but still it is one reason for it. 

Uncle Abe.— In other words, you wanted to get rid of a rival. 

Mr. Chase.— A rival ! Nonsense ! I don't think it has come to that point 

yet. But still- 
Uncle Abe (cimningly). -Well? 
Mr. Chase.— Well, I haven't come to any positive determination yet. But 

tell me— do you think that (as I'm only fifty years old and quite lively and 

healthy yet) anybody could blame me for it if I would try to create me a new 

home and enjoy my life ? 

Uncle Abe (consenting). -Certainly not. 

Mr. Chase.— And as single life can impossible be made comfortable- 
Uncle Abe.— That's so. 

Mr. Chase.— I think nobody could blame me if I would marry again accord- 
ing to my choice. 

Uncle Abe.— To be sure. 

Mr. Chase. -I am rich; don't need to bother myself about what the world 
says — 



wife 



Uncle Abe.— Exactly ; and consequently will try to make Miss Ellen my new 



Mr. Chase.-Nothing definite yet; I only thought of it. But still it isn't at 
all impossible, although I haven't come to any definite conclusion yet 

Uncle Abe.— Oh ! I know enough already. 

Mr. Chase (patting his cheek jocosely). -Yon know nothing at all, uncle Abe- 
nothnig at all-do y(.u hear? All I would like to ask of you would be to watch 
Mis. Ellen ,i little, to try and find out how she thinks of me, nnd, above all 



16 UNCLE ABE. 

find out something about her former life. She is so very, reticent, no- 
body knows the least of it; and I assure you that if she hadu't beeu so well 
recommended to me - • 

Uncle Abe.— You wouldn't have taken her in your house at all. 

Mr. Chase.— But there i.-s auothtr Ihiug that bothers me yet— this Mr. Rivers 
who visits our house so frequeutly since about four weeks, although I have 
nothing person d ag linst him (as he is a clever and smart business man) , is 
disagreeable to me because he is so very courteous to Miss Ellen. 

Uncle Abe {cunningly). -To Miss Ellen ! 

Mr. Chase {astoiiished). ~-Yes; why do you ask in such a tone ? 

Uncle Abe {embarrassed). —Because, I thought — 

Mr. Chase. — That it might be my daughter who is meant? I would put a 
stop to that verj' quick. 

Uncle Abe. — Oh ! no, no ! I have noticed also, that he pays a great deal 
of attention to Miss Ellen. 

Mr. Chase.— Did you? Well, then, tell me what shall I do, as it is impos- 
sible for me to forbid his visits. Suppose you would put Miss Ellen on the 
right track by dropping a word now and then about me, and I think every- 
thing will be all right. I'm pretty sure I'll make up my mind to enslave my- 
self once more. 

Uncle Abe {laughingly). — Yes, yes. It seems to me as if you were on the best 
way to acomplish that. 

Mr. Chase. — Well, Uncle Abj. I rely on you. Watch Mr. Kivers, and try to 
find out Miss Ellen's ideas about me. But, above all, silence ! 

Uncle Abe. — Certainly, you caa rely on me. 

Mr. Chase {shaking Uncle Abe's hand).—U' everything goes right, you can be 
assured of my gratitude. {Exit C.) 

Uncle Abe (/«^w?norous/i/").— I declare, that's a nice mess in this house! — the 
son in love, the daughter in love, the father in love ! I wonder what Billy 
would say if his adored would become his stepmother? Well, a boy like that 
will get over such a disappointment very easy. It would certainly be a much 
more serious thing if Frederic— h'm ! I think it very wrong, though, that Mr. 
Chase sends him to that dreary cotton-mill place, out of sheer jealousy. Yes, 
yes; against his children he is a tyrant, whose very hearts he tries to subdue 
and govern while he, himself, is an old, lovesick fool! He s right, though, 
4n respect to Mis§ Ellen ; I thiuk she could even set njy heart a-goiugonce 
more if she — 

SEVENTH SCENE. 

Uncle Abe, Fkederic, Ellen. Feedeeic opens door L., and steps cut. Ellen 
opens door E., remaining in it unseen to the o!hers. 
Uncle Abe (as if interrupted by the noise).— Who' h. there? {Seeing Frederic) 
Ready to leave, poor devil ? I think you'll feel quite lonesome in that out-r)f- 
the way place. Your father will call you back very soon, though, I guess. 



UNCLE ABE. 1 Y 

Frederic. — Uucle Abe, I have to confide something to you yet before I leave. 

Uncle Abe. — What, you nlso? It seems to me as if the vi^hole world is going 
to make me its confidant. {Taking hold of his arm.) Tell me, are you in 
love also ? 

Frederic. -More than that — I am married. 

Uncle Abe (frigf/ifened).— Married! Good gracious ! Married? Well, that's 
a nice mess. 

Frederic. — Since three mouths already. 

Uncle Abe (m a lamentable /one).— Since three months ! And with whom, you 
villain ? 

Frederic {goes to door R., and brings E lien forioard).— With this lady. 

Uncle Abe (sinks in{o a chair) — With Miss Ellen? I'm thunderstruck ! 

Frederic-Come, dear Ellen; Uncle Abe will take care of you when I'm not 
here. He'll be your paternal friend. 

Ellen {advancing towards Uncle Abe in a timid manner). — You are angry with 
me, and rightly so. I have done very wrong in marrying Frederic without the 
consent and against the will of his father. 

Uncle Abe {lamenting).— Oh ! what a fearful row there will be. Your father- 
Frederic. — Will be reconciliated. 

Uncle Abe {as if not hearing Frederic).— kn(\. William? 

Frederic— How ? 

Uncle Abe.— And Mr. Rivers? 

Frederic (impe<MOM.s/i/).— What about him? 

Uncle Abe.— And Pauline ? Oh ! what a poor old man I am ! I'll get crazy 
in this fearful mess. 

Frederic— What about Rivers and William ? Tell me. 

Uncle Abe.— How? 

Frederic — What do you mean by bringing Rivers and William in connec- 
tion with my wife? 

Uncle Abe {trying to regain his composure). — Oh. ! nothing, nothing— only let 
me recover a little; I'm quite crushed by this piece of news. 

Frederic — But I wish you would explain to me what worries you. 

Uncle Abe.— That is impossible. I have promised silence. 

Frederic. — Silence! about" what? 

Uncle Abe. — If I would tell you that, I would have broken my promise al- 
ready. What do you ask of me in your matter ? 

Frederic — Silence, above all. 

Uncle Abe. — That's what all the others ask of me, also. 

Frederic {impatiently). —Vfhich. others? Tell me what is the matter with 
Rivers and my wife ? That bothers me. 

Uncle Abe. -Nothing, nothing, upon my word. Your wife, your wife ! {good- 
naturedly.) How nice that sounds ! Well, what has happened cannot be re- 



18 UNCLE ABE. 

called. Come here, my boj^ shake Lands with me. I have always thought 
with joy of that moment when ycni would bring a young wife in the house. 
What a fine time we'll have when the little ones— (sieppinfj between Frederic and 
Ellen, and raising Ellen's head by her chin.) Now, don't get offended by wha* 
I say, my dear girl; such an old man like me is always entitled to a word more 
than other people. I must declare, Fred, that you have shown a first-class 
taste in your choice. 

Ellen (bashfully).— Bnt, Mr. Granger, please don't! 

Uncle Abe.— Don't do what? That boy must understand what a treasure he 
has found in you. And, above all, I wish you wouldn't call me Mr. Granger— I 
am Uncle Abe for everybody in this house. Everybody calls me so, even the 
servants, and I don't see the reason why you should make an exception to this 
rule. * But, my children, tell me, what will be the upshot of all this ? If your 
father hears about your marriage, there will be a nice row. 

Frederic. — I think it's best that father doesn't get acquainted with the facts 
at present yet; and, furthermore, everything depends upon your help, uncle 
Abe, as I have to leave for that confounded cotton-mill place immediately, 
which spoils all our plans for the future. 

Uncle Abe. — Above all, though, tell me, first, how did the whole thing 
happen ? 

Frederic. —Oh ! that's very plain. You know that, during the last two years, 
father sent me very often to Boston for the purpose of arranging some business 
matters there. During my occasional visits- to Boston I got acquainted with 
Ellen there, fell in love with her, and, knowing that father would never con- 
sent to my marriage with a girl of moderate means, I persuaded Ellen to get 
married to me secretly. 

Ellen. — And I was weak enough to consent. You are perfectly right in be- 
ing angry with me about what I done, Mr. — 

Uncle Abe {interrupting her). — Uncle Abe, child, that's my name. Be angry 
with you ! — I, with you, my dear {patting her on the cheek)— "So, no ! Don't 
you know that it goes against my nature to be angry at all ? 

Frederic— We were just married two months when father called me back to 
New York again. Almost at the same time Ellen's mother died, her father 
having died already about five years ago. What should we do ? I didn't know 
any family in Boston with whom I could leave my wife ; and, furthermore, I 
couldn't leave her alone, on account of her mother's death, because I was her 
only support in her grief ; consequently, I tried to bring her into our family 
as housekeeper, in which I succeeded, thereby attaining, first, to be near her 
all the time, and secondly, that she might, perhaps, gain the love and esteem 
of my father by her manners and behavior. 

Uncle Abe (bursting out). — Oh, that she has done— that she has done ! 
Frederic and Ellen {together, in a joyous <owe).— How? What do you say? 
Uncle Abe {embarrassed, as if avoiding to say the truth). — That is— yes — he has 
spoken very highly of you, my dear — very highly. 
Ellen {joyously). — Indeed? 0, how glad I am. 



UNCLE ABE. 19 

Frederic— And so am I, as that piece of news enlivens my hope considerably. 
Bat what shall be done next ? I have to leave, and my wife remains here 

alone. 

Uncle Abe.— Never mind ; don't fear, my boj ; I'll take good care of her. 

Ellen.— You dear old uncle Abo ! 
Frederic— Thanks, a thousand thanks 

Uncle Abe (who seems to he well pleased by Ellen's cmiiable attachment to him).— 
And if Fred's father drojDS some very queer idea of his, I think I can arrange 
the whole matter satisfactorily. Now, go, my boy, and God bless you. 

Frederic— Thank you, uncle Abe ; but let me tell you one thing more before 
I leave. Pa has allowed me to come here on a visit only every fortnight ; now, 
I think that's rather a little too long for any man to be separated from his wife. 
Uncle Abe {innocently).— Yes, yes ; but what can we do? 
Frederic Well, I thought that your room, being in the rear part of the 
house, with a sep-xrate entrance from the garden, would be a splendid place for 
secret interviews with my wife. 
Uncle Abe.— Oh, you rascal, you ! 

Frederic You know father goes to his club on two evenings of the week. 

On such days Ellen will send me a telegram, in the morning, at what time she 
wants to meet me in the evening, and, as a train leaves my place almost every 
hour, it is an easy thing for me to be here in time. She comes to your room, 
and I sneak into it through the gate in the rear of the garden, for which I have 
already had an extra key made. In this way I can see my wife without any- 
body seeing me or knowing of it. 

Uncle Abe.— And I have to clear out of my room during these interviews, eh ? 
Frederic— Of course, we don't want you there ! 
Uncle Abe {goodnaturedly). -A splendid idea, I declare. 
Frederic — And you consent to it ? 

Uncle Abe {as if in earnest). —What do you think, my boy ! How can I ? My 
duty against your father — my conscience — no, no, I can't do it ! 
Ellen. — Please, dear uncle Abe. 
Uncle Abe.— Oh, you little witch, you ! 
Frederic— You'll surely reward the confidence we put in you by helping us. 

Uncle Abe.— Hm, hm — 

Ellen. — And be as kind to us as to all others. 

Uncle Abe.— Well, well, it's a hard thing to resist, if you beg as fervently as 
that. 

Frederic (extending his hand). — So you permit us to come? 
Uncle Abe.— What else can I do V 

Frederic j //^,,.g/;ig,.)__A thousand thanks, dear old uncle Abe. 

Ellen ) 

Uncle Abe.— Dear old uncle Abe !— How they can coax and bring a person 
around to their wishes. But you must prove to me that you really are 
married. 



20 UNCLE ABE. 



Frederic. -And Low ? 

Uncle Abe. — By giving your wife a good sound kiss. 

Frederic (going to Ellen, and kissing her). — Certainly ! 

Uncle Abe (wiping his mouth, as if jealous of the kiss Fred gave to Ellen).— Old 
fool I was ! I could have had the same thing if I had had courage enough in 
my youth to pop the question. 

Frederic. — And now I go to my dreary cotton-mill place with a light heart. — 
Good by, uncle Abe ! au revoir in your satictiim sanctorum. Ellen, give him a 
kiss of gratitude. 

Ellen. — With all my heart! {kisses uncle Ahe.) 

Uncle Abe (smiling). —Ah ! 

Frederic— And then come, its time for me to leave. 

Ene^*"^ [ (%«^^e^').— Good by, uncle Abe {both exit through G). 

Uncle Abe {closing his eyes for a few seconds, as if in raptures abmit the kiss 
Ellen gave him — joyously).- By Jove ! what a mouth ! Like velvet ! If her 
kiss tastes as good as that to an old man like me, how must it taste to her hus- 
band (walking up and down excitedly). Fine children they are, fine children 
indeed ! He, a goodhearted and diligent boy, and she, a first-class house- 
keeping woman and educated lady. They match splendidly together. A fine 
couple they are, indeed. But the father, the father ! Well, what will be the 
upshot of it after all ? There will be a big row, but as he can't make things 
undone, he has to give in. And William ? (laughing) and Rivers ? and Pau- 
line? and the flowers? {geiiing more serious by degrees) and the father? and 
Billy's troubles in school ? and the jealousy ? and the cotton ? My God, they 
have packed me full of secrets which will surely crush me. Everybody is 
in love or jealous -and the innocent cause of all is Ellen ! Oh, if I only don't 
betray me. I hope to God that there is nobody left in the house who has to 
confide a secret to me. 

EIGHTH SCENE. 
Uncle Abe. Enter John frorn C. 
John (stopping in the middle of the stage).— JJncle Abe ! 

Uncle Abe {turns around suddenly, grasping John by the collar — excitedly).— 
Have you also got a secret to tell me, or are you in love, you villain ? 
John (frihgtened). — In love ? yes. 
Uncle Abe. — With whom? confess ! 
John. — With the chambermaid ! 
Uncle Abe (letting go his grasp). —Thanks to God ! 
John. — I came to tell you that the dinner is ready, sir {exit). 
Uncle Abe. — I thought he wanted to tell me that he was in love with Ellen 
also ! {exit. ) 

The curtain drops. 



1 



SECOND ACT. 



GARDEN. {KB. The whole depth of the stage.) In the background L. a house with 

steps. — A wall running across the stage in the last entrance encloses the garden. 

The background behind the wall represents a street — In the wall opposite of 

the house R. a gate which leads to the street. — In the foreground 

L. a marble figure, enclosed by shrubbery and bj'ushes. 

FIRST SCENE. 

Mr. Chase and Uncle Abe (coming from the house into the garden). 

Uncle Abe {good natured).— Good digestion demands a nice little walk in the 
garden after dinner, and that's what I am going to take now. You look as if 
in bad humor, Mr. Chase ; wasn't you contented with our dinner ? 

Mr. Chase (growling). — No, not at all. 

Uncle Abe. — I'm very sorry about that and will give the cook a good blow-up. 

Mr. Chase. — Nonsense ! It wasn't the cook's fault ; the meals were all right. 
But did you notice that young rascal at the table? 

Uncle Abe.— Who ? Billy ? 

Mr. Chase.- Billy? No, Rivers I mean. 

Uncle Abe. Yes, Yes. 

Mr. Chase.— He only had eyes for Ellen ; only conversed with her, and told 
her nothing but gallantries. 

Uncle Abe (laughingly).— For which he has his good reasons. (Slaps his 
mouth.) (Aside.) By Jove ! I nearly betrayed myself. 

Mr. Chase.— Well, yes. His reasons are that he is in love with Ellen, which 
thought nearly sets me crazy. The worst of it is, that courtesy and good tact 
demands of me to permit his visits at my house on account of his business 
connections with my firm. Uncle Abe, will you believe that- -oh you'll say 
that I'm old fool— 

Uncle Abe. —No ; not at all. 

Mr. Chase (whispering in his ear).— That I am jealous of this Mr. Bivers. 
Uncle Abe (bursting out laughing).— Rahaha ! I assure you that you don't need 
to be jealous of him ! (Slapping his mouth) Confound it, what did I do? 
Mr. Chase. —How so ? How do you mean that ? 

Uncle Abe.— Well —I think -I mean -as far as I can see, that Miss Ellen 
doesn't favor him any. 

Mr. Chase.— Indeed ? Oh I'm very glad to hear that. But she seems to be 
so absent-minded, so changed, since the last four days, just about as long as 
Fred is gone to the cotton-mill. 



22 UNCLE ABE. 

Uncle Abe. That's uo wonder, considering {slaps his mouth) — 

Mr. Chase. — Considering what ? 

Uncle Abe {embarrassed).- Well— I mean— consideriug that she has to attend 
to Frederic's clothing and wash which he wants to be sent there immediately, 
and which she has to put in order j'et. 

Mr. Chase. — May be you are right. {Looking around. In aii undertone.) Listen 
to me, Uncle Abe. I've come to a conclusion about what I've told you a few 
days ago. You would oblige me very much if you could find out Miss Ellen's 
ideas about the matter, and if she is willing — all right then. 

Uncle Abe.— You'll marry her! 

Mr. Chase. — Don't scream like that; it isn't necessary that everybody hears 
what we are talking. Yes, if she consents, I'll marry her. In case you hear 
from her that she has no objections, please give her this letter {giving uncle 
Abe a letter), in which I ask her for an interview. 

Uncle Abe {talcing the letter). —All righi. 

Mr. Chase.— But be as discreet as possible aboui it. 

Uncle Abe. — As discreet as possible. 

Mr. Chase.— My destiny is in your hands, so act prudently. I guess the 
young ladies will come into the garden after dinner, when you'll easily find an 
opportunity to talk to her and give her the letter. 

Uncle Abe. — You may rest assured that I'll try my best. 

Mr. Chase. — Well, then, I'll go into the house. {Goes, stops, and comes back 
io uncle Abe.) Apropos, that plundering of our garden hasn't stopped yet; 
last night, some of our best roses were cut off again. 

Uncle Abe {bur.sting out).— Oh, that little rascal! 

Mr. Chase. -What? 

Uncle Abe {embarrassed). — How? 

Mr. Chase.— You said— ? 

Uncle Abe.— I ? 

Mr. Chase.— You said, "Oh, that little rascal!" 

Uncle Abe. — Did I? that expression only escaped me. 

Mr. Chase. — Uncle Abe, you know who the thief is and don't want to tell me. 

Uncle Abe. —No; indeed not! I have only a slight suspicion. 

Mr. Chase.— ^ Yon know the thief, and are trying to get him out of the scrape ? 

Uncle Abe {in great embarrassment). —1 assure you — 

Mr. Chase.— What shall I think of all that ? Besidas, Billy wasn't at the 
dinner-table for three days, and says he had your permission to stay away — 
what does all that mean ? You know that you have my entire confidence, and 
I hope not that you deceive me. 

Uncle Abe. — But, Mr. Chase, how can you think— 



UNCLE ABE. 23 

SECOND SCENE. 

Uncle Abe. Mr Chase. Enter Wtluam, who comes md of the house and trief 
to run into the garden. 

Mr. Chase (seeing ^im).— Billy, come here! 

William (advancing towards Mr. Chase).— Yen, father. What do you wish? 

Mr. Chase.— I want to know why you wasn't at dinner the last three days. 

William (frightened). — Uncle Abe — 

Mr. Chase. -Knows why; all right! But wouldn't you tell me the reason, 
also ? 

William (stammering). — Yes, dear father — 

Mr. Chase.— You hesitate? I want to know what is the matter. Uncle Abe 
must tell me all he knows about it. 

Uncle Abe (getting ca/mer).— "Well, yes, something is the matter; and, if you 
insist on knowing it, let me tell you that I have dictated him to stay away 
from dinner for three days, as a punishment 

Mr. Chase. —As a punishment! then there has been some serious complaint 
about him from his teacher again, I suppose, of which you didn't tell me. 
Now look here, my boy. I guess I'd better send you to a strict boarding school 
where they will learn you manners, as I see that you can't be managed at home. 

William (begging). — Please, father, don't! 

Uncle Abe (a)igrily).—'No, no; his teacher didn't complain about him. 

Mr. Chase. — Well, then, what is it ? I want to know the truth— why you 
punished him. 

Uncle Abe (yiot knowing how to help himself ).— He has cut those flowers off. 

Mr. Chase. -Billy? 

William (reproachfidly).—\]uc\e Abe! 

Uncle Abe. I caught liim, and, not wanting to trouble you with it, I pun- 
ished him out of my own accord. That's the whole thing. 

Mr. Chase.-— So you are the flower thief ? 

Uncle Abe. — Let him alont now; he received his punishment for it, and tha 
ends the matter. 

Mr. Chase.— All right; but look out that you are not caught again. (Taking 
uncle Abe aside.) Don't forget what you've promised me. (^Mil R.) 

Uncle Abe (wiping the sweat from his brow).— I declare, that was a tight fix! 

William.— It's a shame, uncle Abe, that you promised silence to me, and now 
betray me. Psliaw! I never thought that you could act as mean as that. 

Uncle Abe. -Are you not ashamed of yourself, to talk to me in that way? 
How could I help myself, when your father drove me into such a tight corner ? 
And furthermore, I'm so full of secrets as a tree full of caterpillars ; (pointing 
to his head) one crawls here, and one crawls there, and how easy isn't it that 
one crawls out.— Bat tell me, didn't you take flowers again last night? 

William.— No, to l^e sure not. 



24 UNCLE ABE. 

Uncle Abe.— P'st! don't lie. I'm couviuced that it was you who cut those 
flowers, of which your father spoke before. For this time you are out of the 
sforape, but you may be assured that I'll not help yon out again the next time. 

William {coaxingly). — Tell me uncle Abe, about what other secrets did you 
talk before ? 

Uncle Abe.— That's none of your business, sir. (Aside) I guess I better get 
out of the way of the others by taking a little walk, else I might get confused 
entirely and betray one to the other, and, by that, create a great deal of mis- 
chief. It seems to me as if I've said too much already. {Exit L. ) 

William. So I am detected, and Ellen should have no flowers any more? 
Pshaw, that would be a poor knight who fears danger. They lock the garden 
in the evening now -all right; I'll climb over the fence; which is better still, 
as nobody can prove then, that it was I who took the flowers -Oh, it is glorious 
to risk everything for one s beloved!— If I only knew how I could play that 
confounded Rivers a triek -he is always flirting \vith Ellen, and looks at her 
with eyes -oh, such eyes! -I'll blacken them for him, some day, j'ou bet! 

{Exit R.) 

THIRD SCENE. 

Enter Rivers, who comes from the house, goes to the arbor, and sits down in it; 
reading the following from a paper which he takes from his pocketbook while 
entering. 

Do I really dare to hope. 
And believe thy eyes, which say 
That thy Ipve belongs to me ? 
Has thy false heart understood 
To betray me, in those days 
When I vowed to love but thee ? 

No; in your pure features are 
Truth— yes, truth, alone expressed. 
And your love belongs to me! 
While I, as my throbbing heart 
Sets all jealous doubts at rest, 
Vow again to love but thee! 

(Puts the paper hnck in his pocketbook, which he lays on the table, leaving it there 
when he goes off afterwards). —Anyhow, these verses are not so bad for a person 
that is no professional poet, though I had to rack iny brain pretty hard to 
make them. But Pauline loves poetry, and especially about herself ; so I 
made them willingly, and to my best ability.— If I only knew where she is? 
She was going to write something, and then come down, as it is easier to have 
an unobserved little chat in the garden than in the house. — The position which 
I occupy in this family begins, by degrees, to get unbearable. To deceive the 
father, I have to flirt with the housekeei)er, and am watched by Pauline with 
the most jealous eyes, who, in her jealousy, always reproaches me about nay 



UNCLE ABE. 25 

behavior, althougli sLe has concocted the whole plan. A nice situation it is, I 
declare. And, above all, I'm acting very wrong against Miss Ellen; that poor 
girl may be deceived by my behavior, and may put ideas in her head which 
can never be realized. 

FOURTH SCENE. 

Rivers. Enter Ellen, from the house, having a needlework in her hand. Looks 
around, as if to convince herself thai nobody is near, and then goes to the arbour. 
Does not perceive Rivers before she enters the arbour. 

Ellen {embarransed). -Ah, Mr. Rivers! 

Rivers {surprised).-m^H Ellen! and working again ? You really are too in 

dustrions. "^ 

in nlrT^r'' T"' ^""ffi^^^ T" '''^"^ *•" ^^'' ^'^"^ ^^"^^ "^P ^fter dinner 
in this shady place, and I have disturbed you ? 

Rivers. -No, not at all ! How can a person think of sleeping in a house 
where such amiable company— ""u»c 

Ellen.-T beg your pardon, Mr. Rivers-for asking you to address these cour- 
te-sies to that person which is more entitled to them than I. 

FIFTH SCENE. 

Rivers. Ellen Enter Proline, who comes from the house, sees Rivers and 
Ellen, and Mdes herself behind the marble figure so as to overhear wZ thfy 

Rivers. — Who do yoa meau ? 

Ellen.-Do yon really believe that ,„„ can .leceive me by your behavior V 
Rivers.— Deceive you ? 

thiThol.e''" '' "" ' """" ""' """ '"' '""'"""' "'■ ^""'- y- P'y your vi«t» to 
Rivers (embarrassed). —Miss Ellen 

.eet:,<rhr:^.'.j:;;;:,^^^^^^^^^^ 

Rivers.— I assure you 

Rivers.— Wouldn't yon explain fo me ? 

'"irir^ -■■'"-~.,.Ul.veto,.veyou. 

R-Vers «.„., tofoUou, ker, steps o,a of Ik. .,*„,„,._C,.u't I go for it? 



26 



UNCLE AB?]. 



Pauline {steps out from behind the marble figure and stops Kiveks— in an excited 
tone). — No, sir ; you cannot ! You really play your part to perfection, Mr- 
Kivers, and one is led to the belief that it is nature itself. 
Rivers {perplexed). — Pauline! 

Pauline. — Yes, Pauline, you traitor! It isu't tive minutes since I left you, 
aud I find you in an intimate conversation with Miss Ellen already. 
Rivers. — liy mere chance, I assure you. 

Pauline. - Oh, I know that ! These chances always come when they are most 
wished for. 

Rivers. — But Miss Ellen came to me; I didn't seek an interview with her. 
Pauline. —So much the worse; your intimacy must have grown pretty strong 
if {haughtily) that Miss Ellen thinks it prudent to look for you. 
Rivers. — But, how can you believe — 

Pauline. —I believe only what I see -that's the point where the belief ends 
aud the iact commences. 

Rivers {growing coid).— And yet, you are mistaken. 

Pauline. — Mistaken, eh? Did you speak a word to me at the dinner table? 
Rivers {always in a very cold tone). — No. 
Pauline. —Didn't you always talk with that woman ? 
Rivers.— Yes. 

Pauline.— Didn't you always exchange looks with her ? 
Rivers.- No. 

Pauline.— Nol Do you mean to tell me that you didn't look at her? 
Rivers. -Look at her! — yes; but that isn't exchanging looks. 
Pauline. Now, don't try to avoid my question^. Did you look at me once 
only? 

Rivers.— Oh, yes, and very often, too! 
Pauline.— That's not so. 

Rivers. — It is so; but, as you always avoided to look at me, you may not 
have noticed it. 

Pauline. — Oh, you are a faithless traitor! You put ideas in that girl's head 
which you can never realize, as often as I turn my back; you — 

B\M^r% {inieiTupiing her, in a very serious tone). — Miss Pauline, this will do. 
I'm sick aud tired'of your groundless suspicions! I shall leave you, and will 
not return until you have found out how deeply you have wronged me {turns 
to go). 

Pauline.— So you go without vindicating yourself? 

ffjyePS, — I leave my justification to your common sense and to your heart. 
Pauline (yielding).— Charley I 

Rivers. — Your common sense must tell you that my position in this house is 
not the most enviable; your heart ought to have prevented you from making 
it the more so by your jealousy. The love I feel for you I have to feign for 



UNCLE ABE. 21 

another, with the purpose of deceiving your father and to avoid, collision with 
his haughty prejudice. I am not enough of an actor to play my part so 
well as not to arouse suspicion. 

Pauline {still more yielding). —Rivers! 

Rivers. — And if you really love me, you ought to have understood my posi- 
tion, and your heart should have baeu my defender; but your otherwise good 
and faithful heart succumbs to the paroxysms of the most frightful but ground- 
less jealousy. 

Pauline {putting her hand on his shoulder). — Charley, I forgive you. 
(RrvEES looks at her silently in astonishment for a moment, and then hursts out 

laughing. ) 

Pauline. — You laugh ? 

R'lyers {stilllaughing). — You forgive me? well, that's the best thing I heard 
for a long time. 

Pauiine.-yBut, how ? — you cant expect me to ask your forgiveness. 

Rivers.— Indeed! {Kissing her hand.) Well, never mind! dont let us begin 
to quarrel again. Have you come to your senses now ? 

Pauline. — What an expression that is! Don't you uuderstiind that my jeal- 
ousy proves my love ? 

Rivers. A nice love that, I declare, which does its best to torment other 
people. But, as I told you before, I cannot endure this situation and hypoc- 
risy of mine much longer; I must have an understanding about the future, and 
for that reason nmst have a private interview with you, in which we can con- 
sider our future plans calmly and quietly, without being in fear that somebody 
might see and betray us. 

Pauline. — A private interview ? Charley, how can you demand such a thing 
of me ! 

Rivers. — Why? That isn't something so very strange ! Loving people have 
had private interviews as long as the world stands. 

Pauline. — Is that really so ? 

Rivers.— Certainly ! If I only knew a place where to m.eet ! 

Pauline.— This garden would do first rate I think. Pa and uncle Abe go 
to the club to-night, so there is nobody to disturb us, the more so as the garden 
is locked every night at eight o'clock.- I can get into the garden through uncle 
Abe's room. 

Rivers. - Splendid- and I ? 

Pauline.— You come to the gate in that fence yonder which leads into the 
alley way.— I can open it from the inside and let you in. 

Rivers.— Charming, cbarmiug ! Au revoir then till to night at 8 o'clock.— 
We will then consider what course we have to pursue so as to secure the con- 
sent of your f ither to our marriage. ( Exit R. 

Pauline.— He is a good fellow anyhow, and I know that I wrong him very 
much with my jealousy, but still I cannot suppress it entirely.— (/oofcm^ i?.) 
Ah, there comes Pa, he meets Charley— they speak and walk together.— That 
seems strange. Let me try and find out what is the matter. {Mit M. ) 



28 UNCLE ABE. 

SIXTH SCENE. 

Eiiter William, {from L. having an orange in his hand.)— If I could only find 
Mis.s Ellen ! I have been hunting all our garden for her already, to give her 
this orange, but I can't find her. She said at dimiertable that she was going 
out here to do some needle work. May be she sits in thearbonr. Letus look.— 
{goes to the arbour.) No, uot here either ! {Notices the pockelbook, {note hook) 
containing letters, cards, etc., which Rivers left on the table.) Halloh, what's that! 
A pocketbook? Let us see ! cards, letters, Charles Rivers, Esq.,- aha, that's 
Elvers' pockt- tbook ! none of my business \— {about to .shut the book. ) Ah, what's 
that? Some poetry ? Let us read it! {reads the paper through quick.) Splendid, 
splendid ! — By Jove, what an idea strikes me, I'm sure he has made that for 
Miss Ellen. Certainly, there it is : To— and some dots ! These dots mean 
Ellen. —Oh you rascal ! {about to tear the paper.) Hold on — I'll get square on 
him. If I give this poetry to Miss Ellen, .she thinks I've made it for lier, i* 
will serve my purpose and he is outwitted! {Puts the pockeibooTc on a chair 
and wraps the paper around the orange.) So, as soon as I see her, I'll try to 
give her this orange, she will read tbe verses, and — {looking R. ) Halloh, there 
comes Pauline ! I guess I'll better skedaddle so as she doesn't get hold of me. 

( Exit L ) 

SEVENTH SCB]NE. 

Enter Pauline, from R. 
Pa and Rivers are turning this way again. It was impossible for me to hear 
a word of their conversation, as I must find out what they are talking about, 
I'll but sit down in this arbour, may be there is a chance for me here to 
listen. — {sits down in the arbour and looks <(t the needlework which Ellen left on the 
table. ) Ellen's needlework ! She's a good hand at it, that's true. 

EIGHTH SCENE. 

Enter Ellen, /rom the house. She puts a letter in her pocket while coming out of 

the door, and holds the pattern of her needlework in her hand. Coming forward. 

looks around, as if searching for somebody. 

Pauline {during the entrance of Ellen, and not noticing her). — But for whom 
does she work that ? It must be for a man, as no woman wears sus- 
penders. Who can that be? I don't know of anybody with whom she is so 
well acquainted. ^Ha, what a thought ! If it is for Charley ! Does he betray 
me in spite of his assertion of the contrary ? [notices Ellen) Ah, there she is ! 

Ellen {stox)S in the middle of the stage, not noticing Pauline).— If I only knew 
where uncle Abe is. He promi.sed to post my letter to Frederic right after din- 
ner, so ihat it reaches him iu time yet. 

NINTH SCENE. 
Pauline. Ellen. Etder William, from L., u^ho sneaks behind the marble 

figure. 
Pauline. — As often as I see her, my suspicion grows. 



UNCLE ABE. 29 

Ellen {looking at the paitern in her hand).— I'm sure this pattern will please 
Fred ; be is fond of flowers and leaves. 

William {throws the orange wrapt in the paper which he took from Rivers' 
pocketbook, to the feet of Ellen. Ellen looks around to see where that comes 
from. William shows himself to Ellen /ro?n behind the marble figure, puts his 
fiiiger to his mouth, as if to ask her to be silent, and then exits L. 
Pauline (aside).— What's all that? 

Ellen {picking up the orange, with the paper.).— Vm sure that's a new nonsense 
of this fearful boy ! 

Pauline (aside) —What secrets can Billy have with her? 

Ellen {reading the paper). —Verses ? 

Pauline (aside).— A letter? I must know what that is! {coming forward) 
Something very interesting, I suppose, Miss Ellen ? 

EWen {frightened, tries to hide the paper). -^Oh, how you frightened me! I 
thought there was nobody in that arbour. 

Pauline {in a malicious tone). —I can imagine that it is very disagreeable to be 
disturbed when a pers(m would rather like to be alone. 

Ellen {rrgaining her composure). — Did you tind me one of those persons that 
likes solitude so very much ? 

Pauline. Not always; but still there are moments when a person prefers 
solitude. 

Ellen.— Most certainly ! 

Pauline. — Especially If that person has to read secret letters. 

Ellen. — Oh, that's what you are driving at ! You have seen what has hap- 
pened before. A mere writing— exi-rcise of your brother, I guess ; at least, I 
hope that'i! all, because if he had also made the verses it would show that 
he has very little poetical talent. They are really very poor. 

Pauline {inquisitively). — Verses ? 

Ellen ^unconcernedly) — Yes ; read them yourself. 

Pauline {lakes the paper, and recognizes the handwriting).— Oh, how infamous. 

Ellen {frightened). — Wliat is the matter ! 

Pauline. — You are unmasked, you hypocrite! Oh, you understand masterly how 
to feign virtue and modesty, but I have also learned to understand your tricks! 

Ellen {perplexed, but regaining her composure by degrees).— Miss Pauline, I 
don't comprehend what you mean. 

Pauline. — Do you deny that yon know this handwriting? 

Ellen. — Not :it all. As far as I know, its your brother's, 

Pauliue. - My brothers? Nonsense! Oh, I know this hand too well, and 
wish to God that 1 had never seen it ! 

Ellen. -What do you mean ? 

Pauline. — That I am betrayed ! But you may rest assured I shall have my 
revenue ! — But no, my revenge shall be that I despise you and him ! 
Ellen. — Could you believe that your brother, a mere child — 



80 rjN(!Li<: Aino. 

Paulino. — Yes, a rncrd c.liild yet ; conwMiucntly it was ho inueli oasicr to rniM- 
load liini. 

Ellon {eiir<t.[i<'d). MiHH Pauline, iliis accusatictu 

Pauline. — Wlial. doos u hoy of Ills ago l<iiow liow wrong W Ih to ad, hk agent 
or interposor in hucIi a caHo? 

Ellen. -Agent! intor[toHer! F asHure you that I really don't know what yon 
mean. 

Pauline. You will ixjrcolvo that, after what haK hai)i)C'n(!d, it will he most 
adviHahlt) for you to leave this house of your own accord. 

Ellen.— Oh, my God! 

Paulino. — If you wish to avoid an eclat; as in Ktich a case I would surc^ly awk 
uiy father to let me leave the houKc. 

Ellon (wi/»//a/;<!a//?/). —You may rest aHHured that, I shall act in accordance 
witli what my honor [)rom[)tH me to do. 

Pauline (vconf./y/////). Well said; vfuy well, ind<;ed! nearly as good as these 
vers(!s. Ah, tlure <!omes Mr. Kivers with my father ! Please, gentlemen, 
coni(! and listcni to this heautifid piece of [)oetry. 

TIONTIl SCHNK. 

Ellkn. l*A(iiiiNK liJiiIrr M.H. iUixHK and KiVKKH, froni. It. 
Rivers. -VerseH V 

Mr. Chase. Which you may keej) for yourself! 

Pauline. — No, no, you must, hoar them — tlusy are worthy of u great poot I 
( l\'('<uls, very much exr.iled, and with scorn.) 

Do I really dare to hope 

And believe thy eyes, which say 

That thy love belongs to meV 

Rivers. What is that? {Searches In his pochifor his nokhook.) 
Paulino (snc.erhKjly, to lii.vtrs). (Jertainly, sir, you may hope. {Goes on 
readhtij. ) 

Has thy false heart understood 
^ To betray me in those days 

When I vovvred to love but thee? 

Rivers.— How did yon get that? 

Pauline {in the same tone). — It, did not betray you, sir; your love is 
rccii)rocated. 

Ellen (<iside). Ah, now I understand! it's Mr. Itivers who wrote that. 
Mr. Chase. — You'd better stop rc^ading that nonsens(>. 

Pauline. No, no; you must hear the end of it. {Goes on reading, still more, 
excited.) 



UNCT.E ABE. 31 

No ; in yonr i)uro foiitnros are 
Truth! yos, truth iilom^ nxpresscd, 
And your love belongs to mo. 

{Speakfi). ^Decidodly, dcoidodly, sir! {Reads.) 

While I, lis my throbbing heart 
Sets all jealous doubts at rest, 
Vow again to love but thee. 

(Speaks.). — Beautiful! most beautiful, indeed! 
Mr. Chase. — Those verses are fearful, my dear! 

Pauline. — Don't be so harsh in your judgment, pa, as the author stands next 
to you. 
Mr. Chase.— Who? Mr. Eivers! go yon are also a pout? 

Hmrs {emharrasKed). I think Miss I'aiilino acts very wrong to put me in 
such an awkward poHitit)u. 

Mr. Chase (mcredalously). Businc^ss man and poet in one person? 
Pauline.— VVhj not, pa, as sucli an amiable object as the one in question can 
even turn the most prosaic person into a poet ? 
Mr. Chase. -What amiable object? 

Pauline.— Nobody else but Miss Ellen; it is her who has called forth this 
poetical effusion. 

Mr. Chase (in a jealous tone).— Mina Ellon! I'll not hope that 

Rivers {to Mr. Chase).— If you'll permit, I'll explain the whole matter in a 
few words. 

Pauline. — What for, as the fact is iudispuUible ? Miss Ellen received those 
versos in a very ingenious wuy. 

Rivers.— Not from mo, though? 

Pauline.— But through your poslilUm d amour. 

Mr. Chase.— Through a poslUlon d'amour 'i that makos tilings worse yet. 

Pauline.— Yos, dear father, Billy was the oidy one that un.lortook to play 
that part. 

Mr. Chase.— Billy! Mr. Rivers, what shall 1 think of yon ? 

Rivers {impaiienily).~l1i you would only listen quietly to me for a few 
moments, I'm sure that I can explain the whole matter. 

Pauline.— A nice explanation that must bo! 

Mr. Chase.— But I must have it. 

Rivers (to mien). Miss Ellen, I'm very sorry that you Imve been implicated 
in this affair, but one word from you could solve the whole mystery. 

Ellen {proudly). Against roproachos und acciiHiitions of that sort which Miss 
Paulino has h«aped on mo my honor domundH sih-noo, if T don't want U> lose 
my self-respect. 

Mr. Chase {to Paulink).— So y..n ncoUKO Miss Kll.-n mIho? 



32 UNCLE ABE. 

Pauline. — Yes, father. These verses, made aod written by Mr. Rivers, were 
delivered to Miss Ellen by Billy as postilion cVamour, and I think that the honor 
of our house demands — 

Rivers (interrupting her). — I beg your pardon, Miss Pauline ; but to have vio- 
lated the honor of your house, is a reproach which I cannot allow to rest on 
me. I hereby declare on my word of honor that these verses were not sent to 
Miss Ellen by me, nor were even intended for her. I had them in my note- 
book, which I must accidentally have left in this arbor before, from which 
some indiscreet person must have taken and misused them in this foolish 
manner. 

Pauline {looking around). — I don't see any notebook. 

Mr. Chase.— Nor I either. 

Rivers.— And still this is the very simple solution of this seeret. 

Mr. Chase. — But if these verses were not intended for Miss Ellen, to whom 
were they addressed then ? 

Ellen (aside, and whispering to Pauline). — Most surely to you ! 

Pauline (frightened).— How? 

Rivers. — That, Mr. Chase, is my secret. 

Mr. Chase.— You are embarrassed, Mr. Rivers. Yon have secrets which you 
don't want to reveal, and in which members of my family are implicated; con- 
sequently I am at leisure to believe my own version about them. 

Pauline {lohy begins to comprehend). — But, dear father, perhaps — 

Mr. Chase.— Never mind, my dear ; whatever the circumstances of the case 
are, I anyhow consider them too delicate as to be ventilated in the presence of 
those concerned in it. 

Rivers. — You are right, Mr. Chase. I understand your hint, and will take 
my leavo until this disagreeable misunderstanding has been cleared up either 
through an accident or through the good will of my accuser. I have the 
honor. {Exit through the gate.) 

Mr. Chase. — Good day, Mr. Rivers. I'm sorry, Pauline, that you have insti- 
gated this disagreeable aflair, which it is my duty now to investigate. Go and 
tell Billy to come here, as I want to find out what he knows about it, and tell 
him to bring my hat and cane, as I have to go out afterwards. 

Ellen.— If j'ou will permit, I'll go — 

Mr. Chase.— No, you better let Pauline iittend to it, as I have to speak with 
you also. 

Pauline.— AH right, Pa. {Exit into the house.) 

Mr. Chase. — Now tell me candidly. Miss Ellen, what do you know of the 
affair ? 

Ellen.— It's a conundrum for me. 

Mr. Chase. — So you did not receive the verses from Mr. Rivers ? 

Ellen.— No. sir. 

Mr. Chase. — And have no connections with him whatever ? 



UNCLE ABE. 33 

Ellen.— Mr. Chase ! 

Mr. Chase.— So much the better ! But it always seemed to me that he has 
shown you a great many courtesies. 

Ellen.— Which I took for nothing else but mere civility, as generally shown 
towards ladies by all young men. 

Mr. Chase (amo/ousiy). — You didn't, eh? Oh, Fm very glad of that, very 
glad, indeed ! You see — I am a man still in his best years. 

Ellen.— Indeed, you are very vigorous and healthy for a man of your age. 
May the Almighty preserve you long yet ! 

Mr. Chase. — Do you really wish that ? 

Ellen. — I, most assuredly, not less heartily than your entire family. 

Mr. Chase {embarrassed lohat to say and to do). — Ah — ah — you are a good girl, 
a good girl; and if you— h'm— I suppose, don't quite understand what I mean? 

Ellen. — I really don't know, Mr. Chase. 

Mr. Chase.— Yes, yes ; ah, there comes uncle Abe ; he can explain matters to 
you. 

ELEVENTH SCENE. 

Ellen. Mr. Chase. Enter Uncle Abe, /rom the house, bringing hat and cane of 

Mr. Chase. 

Uncle Abe. — Billy is not to be found; he must be somewhere around the gar- 
den, consequently I bring your hat and cane, as I was coming out anyhow. 

Mr. Chase.— Thanks, uncle Abe, thanks. {Drawing him aside.) Now is your 
time to fulfil my mission to Miss Ellen. 

Uncle Abe.— Now ? 

Mr. Chase. — Yes, now. I have to go out for a short time, and expect you to 
tell me her answer when I come back. — ( To Ellen. ) Uncle Abe will tell you 
something of importance, my dear; please to listen to him attentively, consider 
the matter, and give him a candid and upright answer. {Exit through gate.) 

Ellen.— What does all that mean, uncle Abe? Mr. Chase has kind of fright 
ened me by what he said. 

Uncle Abe {laughingly).— Don't get alarmed, my dear Ellen; there is no need 
for it . 

Ellen. But explain to me. 

Uncle Abe {aside). — Shall I tell her everything?— Shall I give her his letter? 
— No, that would only embarrass and alarm her. It's better not to tell lier 
anything of his foolishness. 

Ellen. — You reflect— tjilk with yourself — tell me what has happened, and by 
that relieve me of my anxiety. 

Uncle Abe [not hnowing what to say). — Well — Mr, Chase is— what shall I say? 
Ellen. — You stop — Go on, tell me ! Mr. Chase is — ? 
Uncle Abe.— A little jealous. 



34 UNCLE ABE. 

Ellen (frightened). — Jealous? 

Uncle Abe. — Yes ; don't get alarmed about it, though. He likes you, and de- 
sires you to stay in our house for good, but fears that Mr. Rivers has cast his 
eye on you and may carry y ou off. 

Ellen.— Mr. Rivers? 

Uncle Abe. — Yes; on account of that Mr. Chase is a little, what I called jeal- 
ous before. 

Ellen. — Oh, to stay in his house forever is only my most fervent desire ; but 
I think his meaning of that is different to mine and Frederic's. 

Uncle Abe. — To which he has to accede, though, by and by. All we want is 
a little patience. 

Ellen.— And on account of Rivers he needn't to fear anything. 

Uncle Abe (laughingly). — Oh, I know, I know. 

Ellen.— You know ? 

Uncle Abe (aside— slapping his mouth). - Betrayed again— (/owd) That is — I 
mean — 

Ellen (laughingly).— Oh, no ; don't you try to get out again ! You have be- 
trayed yourself ! You know — 

Uncle Abe.— What do I know ? 

Ellen.— That Pauline loves Rivers ! 

Uncle Abe (closing his mouth with his hand). —V si, P'st ! Who told you that 

Ellen.— You forget that I am a woman. 

Uncle Abe (simply). — Strange ! I didn't notice anything between Rivers and 
Pauline. 

Ellen. —If Pauline would only have confidence in me — 

Uncle Abe.— Of course she would have that if she knew that you are her 
sister-in-law. 

Ellen (hasly).—'^o, she musn't get acquainted with that fact ; that is a secret 
which is too important. 

Uncle Abe.— Well, then we must wait until everything is cleared up by itself 
in course of time. 

Ellen.— That's my opinion also, at least I wouldn't do a single step without 
the knowledge and consent of my husband. I tried to find you before already, 
to tell you that on account of what has happened in this house to-day, I must 
see and speak to my husband ns soon as possible. I have written him a letter 
to that effect and would ask you to be so kind and post it for me immediately The 
mat leaves at three, he can have the letter at six and can easily be here by eight 
o'clock. The reason why I trouble you to post this letter for me is that I am 
afraid to send a servant with it, as he might read the address and betray 
everything. Then I would beg you also to write the address on the letter, as 
my handwriting ou it would also be very dangerous. i^Gives him the letter.) 

Uncle Abe.— All right, my dear ; give me the letter and rest assured that I 
will attend to it properly. -^Raising her head by her chin. ) Cheer up, every- 
thing will be all right yet. 



UNCLE ABE. 35 

TWELFTH SCENE. 

Ellen, Uncle Abe. Enter Pauline from the house. 

Pauline (seeing JJ^'ctjii^B^ hold Ellen by the chin, sharp). — Ah, Uncle Abe 
are you trying to find frnftf Miss Ellen has toothache ? It is strange that lady 
seems to have a magic power oyer .^"i^nng as well as old hearts. 

Uncle Abe. — I wish you wouldn't talk as frivolous as that, Pauline. 

- ■ *^■ ' 

Ellen {in a friendly tone). — And above all hav?g^^ little confidence in me. Con- 
fidence dissolves misunderstandings, which have been brought about by 
groundless suspicion, the easiest. {Exit Into the house.) 

Pauline (looking after her). — Nothing but phrases, that's all. 

Uncle Abe. — Are you not ashamed of your behavior towards that poor child ? 

Pauline {mockingly). — Poor child ! It seems to me as if you are bewitched by 
her also. 

Unle Abe. — If you knew — {slaps his mouth.) 

Pauline.— What ? 

Uncle Abe. — Nothing. 

Pauline. — Although you are so mysteriously and talk as if you knew more, I 
believe what I have seen with my own eyes. 

Uncle Abe. — Yes, but with spectacles of jealousy and suspicion on them. 
Why did you begin the quarrel with Rivers again ? 

Pauline. — On account of those verses. I may look at the thing as I plase, it 
is and will be a fact that he made those verses for Ellen. 

Uncle Abe.— He didn't dream of it. 

Pauline. — How do you know? 

Uncle Abe.— Because Ellen doesn't think of Rivers. 

Pauline {gladly).— In that true ? Oh, dear Uncle Abe, tell me, please tell me. 

Uncle Abe.— What shall I tell you ? 

Pauline.— Of whom Ellen thinks ; because, if it isn't Rivers, it must surely 
be somebody else, and if I am positive who it is, I am happy, I am content 
You know about the whole thing, as you have just now betrayed yourself ; so 
please confess and relieve me of my fearful doubts. 

Uncle Abe.— What ! I betrayed myself? 

Pauline.— Certainly, by telling me so decidedly that Ellen doesn't think of 
Rivers. Now, everybody with five senses can see that there is something im- 
portant behind that assertion, and that you know about it. 

Uncle Abe.— How shrewd these girls are ! One foresees the secrets of the 
other. 

Pauline.— The secrets of the other? So Ellen- 
Uncle Abe. — Has found out long ago what is tlie matter with you and Rivers. 

Pauline. — And didn't mention a word to me about it. 



36 UNCLE ABE. 

Uncle Abe. — How could she? Just tbiuk how you treated her! Haughty, 
uucivil, overbearing I Oh your behavior was very wrong, considering that you 
are a young girl and she a married woman ! 

Pauline {catching hold of his arm in astonishment). — What, Ellen a married 
woman ? Ellen married ? 

Uncle Abe {angry about himself). — Nonsense ! Who said so? 

Pauline. — Now, look here. Uncle Abe. It's no use of you to try and back 
out. You have betrayed yourself again, nnd now I insist upon knowing your 
entire secrets. 

Uncle Abe. — Wouldn't you be quiet, please? 

Pauline. — ^No; I must know everything. 

Uncle Abe. — Well, then— but don't scream like that— Ellen is (no, I should 
say, was) married — she is a widow! 

Pauline.— A widow! 

Uncle Abe. — At least, a grass-widow. She is a poor, pitiable woman! Her 
husband left her — nobody knows where he is — and she was forced to look out 
for her support herself. 

Pauline. — Poor creature! and I have wronged her so deeply! but I will try 
and reciprocate everything, and will be a true friend to her in the future. 
Rivers has also been wronged by me — how glad I am of that! {Sees Rivers' 
notebook laying on the chair in the arbor.) And there is his notebook on the 
chair— so he spoke the truth ? {Takes the book.) Now, everything is clear to 
me— William, that little rascal, has found it, and created the entire mis- 
understanding by his frivolity. Oh, how glad I am that everything is cleared 
up satisfactorily! 

Uncle Abe. — What a curious creature a woman is! rain and sunshine, storm 
and spring weather, in one moment. 

Pauline. — And now, uncle Abe, you must do me a favor. 

Uncle Abe. — What is it, my dear? 

Pauline.— I had arranged an interview with Rivers for to-night — 

Uncle. Abe {reproachfully). — An interview! Oh! 

Pauline. — Don't scold, dear uncle Abe. As long as the world stands, loving 
people have had secret interviews. 

Uncle Abe {laughingly). ~^e?L\\y'f and where is it to take place? 

Pauline. — Never mind that— I can keep my secrets better than you. Rivers 
went away in very bad humor, though, and I'm afraid that he'll not come; so 
I've made up my mind to write to him that everything has been cleared up 
satisfactorily, and that I expect him to-night as agreed. Will you please post 
the letter for me ? 

Uncle Abe.— What cau I do but consent to be your postilion d' amour ? 

Pauline. — Thanks, a thousand thanks! I will have it ready for you in a few 
moments. {Exit into the house.) 

Uncle Abe.— But now I htive to take care of my tongue, and not betray 
myself any more. I'm afraid, though, that one-half of my secrets have leaked 
out already. 



UNCLE ABE. 3t 

THIRTEENTH SCENE. 

Uncle Abe. Enter John from the house. 

John.— Uncle Abe ! 

Uncle Abe.— Well, what's the matter? 

John. — A gentleman has just come who wants to see you on a very import^ 
ant matter; he says he is in a great hurry, and wants to see you immediately. 

Uncle Abe.— Aha, that's Mr. Boyd! I'm coming, I'm coming. {Ecit with John, 
into the house.) 

FOURTEENTH SCENE. 

Enter Rivebs through the gate in the wall, looking around cautiously. 
Rivers. — I hope nobody is in the garden, as I wouldn't like to be seen here 
for anything. All I want is my notebook; it would be very awkward for me if 
it fell into other hands, as it contains letters which I don't want to be read by 
anybody. {Goes to the arbor, and searches it.) Not here! what has become of 
it? No doubt somebody found it, and played me that nasty trick with those 
verses— at least that's the only way in which P.iuline's jealousy and impetu- 
ousness is explicable, and excuses her behavior. If I could only speak to her! 
I cannot possibly go there, as by that I would lose all respect in her eyes. Oh, 
it's a fearful position in which I am! Our interview is also spoiled by the 
affair, as she most certainly will not expect me to come and, consequently, will 
not come herself. Halloa! isn't that her voice? she is coming here with uncle 
Abe. I'll hide myself in that arbor, because, if she sees me, she might 
believe that — {Retires in the background of the arbor.) 

FIFTEENTH SCENE. 

RiVEBS. Enter Uncle Abe and Pauline />om the house. 

Pauline {stopping in the door).— So 1 rely on you, uncle Abe; if you attend to 
the letter properly, I'll make yon a nice present on your birthday. 

Uncle Abe {with hat ami cane, as if ready to go out, and two leHers in his hand). 
— All right, you little romp; you can rely on me. {Crosses the stage towards 
the gate, at the same time putting the two letters in his pocket)? Mr. Boyd was in 
a great hurry, and has gone right to Boston ; it must be a pretty important 
piece of business, anyhow — the cotton affair. If I only knew where to find Mr. 
Chase now! Well, I'll try his office, and see if he is there, and at the same 
time post the other letters. {About to exit.) 

Rivers.— P'st, p'st! 

Uncle Abe. — Eh ! Did somebody call me ? 

Rivers {stq)ping from the arbor).— Yes, it's I. 

Uncle Abe. — Ah. Mr. Rivers ! {laughingly) I'm glad to meet you, as I can 
give you the letter yourself now, which I was going to send you by mail {hunts 
for the letter in his pocket). Pauline has found out that she has wronged you, 



38 UNCLE ABE. 

and has written you this letter for fear that you might not come to the rendez- 
vous to-night as arranged. Here is the letter {hands him the letter). 

Rivers {excitedly taking the letter). —Thanks, many thanks, dor uncle Abe. 
You have brought me glorious news. {Opens the letter hastily.) 

Uncle Abe {good-humoredly). — Well, I declare, you are as much excited as if 
you got a despatch that gold went up or down about fifty per cent., at a jump. 
Carious people those are which are in love. 

Rivers {aside). — What's that ? {reading) Have arranged to buy the cotton 
of Jones & Co. , in Baltimore, at twelve cents a pound, if you telegraph there 
that you want it. Within a fortnight it will be surely up to eighteen. Have 
you right on to Boston. {Speaks) No signature ? {looks at the envelope) No 
address ? This is a mistake. The letter is not intended for me. But for 
whom? — Pshaw, never mind ; that piece of news is worth gold to me {pids the 
letter in his pocket. Embraces Uncle Abe). Dear uncle Abe, you have brought 
golden news to me. Tell Pauline to expect me for sure. I will come positively', 
and perhaps be able to tell her something which will make both of us happy. 
{Exit, hurriedly, through gate.) 

[Jnc\e l^be {laughingly). — He behaves, like a madman. Generally Rivers is a 
pretty sensible and quiet man, and now he seems to loose his senses about an 
interview with his beloved. It is true, that such young people are not to be 
blamed for iheir pranks, if old fools like Mr. Chase and myself can't keep their 
heads level. Ellen has charmed all of us, even me, and I think that I could — 
Pshaw, what an idea, to stand here and talk such nonsense while I have more 
important things to attend to ! I'll go now and bring Mr. Chase the cotton- 
news. {About to exit.) 

SIXTEENTH SCENE. 

Uncle Abe. Enter Mb. Chase, through gate. 

Mr. Chase.— Well, uncle Abe, have you got good news for me ? 

Uncle Abe. —Yes, sir ; here it is {gives him a letter). 

Mr. Chase {opens the letter, reads aside). — To-night — in uncle Abe's room - 
yours, in hurry — 'EAlen— {embracing Uncle Abe) Uncle Abe, you have worked 
my cause charmingly. If everything goes right I'll make you a present of a 
fine ivory chess-board. {Exit, into the house.) 

Uncle Abe {cMckling).— Must be good news about the cotton, that, to excite 
that stern man in such a m nner. Well, an ivory chess-board would please me 
very much, I declare. That's the way people are. I enjoy a game of chess, he 
{pointing to the gate where Rivers Ipft) gets out of his senses for joy about a 
love-letter, and he {pointing towards the house after Me. Chase) gets in raptures 
about a cotton news which may bring him a big pile of money. A queer world 
this is indeed ! And now, I'll go and post Ellen's letter to Fred.— But hold on, 
she told me to write the address on it myself, which I forgot. Well, I can do 
that at the post-office {takes two letters from Ms pocket and looks at them in as- 
ionishment). By Jove, there are two letters yet ! One is Ellen's letter to Fred, 
and the other, Mr. Chase's to Ellen, which I didn't give to her. But that one 



UNCLE ABE. 39 

is without an address also. Quite right, such letters must never be addressed 
as they might come into wrong hands. The question now is, which is which ? 
Hold on, the envelopes are of very thin paper, and I guess I can look through 
them {holds them up agairist the light). Confound it, no; all I can see is that 
this one is long, and the other short. The one for Fred must be the long one, 
as a young wife that hasn't seen her husband for four days has got a great deal 
to write to him. Consequently, I'll send this long one, it's surely the right 
one. Wouldn't that be a mess and confusion if I should accidently exchange 
the letters, and the wrong one would come into the wrong hands ? Ha, ha •' 
what a row that would be. I'll take good care though that nothing of the kind 
will happen. {Exit, chuckling.) 

Curtain drops. 



THIRD ACT. 



A plain room. — Two doors in background with curtains which are opened. — Through 

the doors L a bedroom is seen, while the door K shows a closet full of clothing 

— The door which is used as general entrayice is on the right side of the 

stage, also door L, which is closed. — Window R draped by heavy 

dark curtains, which are open. — R and L tables with very large 

tablecloths. — La sofa. — Time between dusk and dark. 

FIRST SCENE. 
Enter Rivers and Pauline. 

Pauline. — Come in here : here we are safe. 0, how I am frightened ! 

Rivers. —Qniet yourself, please. 

Pauline. — Did you recognize him also? 

Rivers. — Yes, it was your brother Billy. I saw him quite plain, as he stood 
on the garden wall, looking cautiously around, and then jump into the garden. 

Pauline. — I wonder what his ^bject was ! If he had seen us, we would have 
surely been betrayed, as he can't keep his tongue. Luckily, however, this 
door (pointing to door B) of Uncle Abe's room, leading into the garden, was 
open. Here we can quietly and undisturbed chat for a quarter of an hour. 
Uncle Abe is gone to the club to play a game of chess and will surely not be 
home before nine o'clock. And even if he returns, he must come through the 
house and this door ( pointing to door L), when we will have plenty of time to 
escape through the other one {R) into the garden. 

Rivers. —Are you convinced now, my dear Pauline, that you have wronged 
me? 

Pauline. — Ps't, don't let us talk of that! I will believe that you are innocent. 

Rivers (provdked). — Only believe! and you are not convinced? 

Pauline. — I dont trust any man, and, consequently, it is very hard to con- 
vince me on such a subject as the one in question. 

Rivers [in a loud tone). — So you mean to say that you are nol convinced? 

Pauline.— P'st, don't talk so loud as that. 

Rivers. — There is surely nobody around here that can hear us ? 

Pauline.— But I'm always in a fright that somebody saw us in the garden. 
Oh, how foolish it was of me to grant yon this interview! 

Rivers. — Tell me, have you no confidence in me ? are you not convinced of 
my innocence yet ? 



UNCLE ABE. 41 

Pauline. — I think it is rather queer of you to force me into a verbal repeti- 
tion of the acknowledgement of my guilt, as I have written it to you already. 

Rivers. — Written to me? 

Pauline. — In my letter of to-day. 

Rivers.— Which letter ? 

Pauline. — The one I sent you this afternoon; didn't you receive it? 

Rivers.— No. 

Pauline. — But I invited yon once more to our interview in it. 

Rivers. — I didn't receive any letter. Uncle Abe told me verbally that you 
had admitted to have wronged me, and expected me for sure to-night. 

Pauline. — Uncle Abe told you that, and didn't give you my letter? 

Rivers. — He had a letter from you for me? Oh, now I comprehend 
everything! 

Pauline. -What? 

Rivers. — P'st! Don't you hear something? 

Pauline. — Yes — footsteps. (Goes to window R.) 

Rivers. — Who can that be ? 

Pauline. — For God's sake it is Ellen! She is coming here. I would die, for 
shame, if she sees us. 

Rivers.— What is to be done ? 

Pauline. -It is impossible to escape through that {poinUng to R.) door, as we 
would meet her there, and this one {pointing to L.) is locked; all we can do is 
to hide ourselves. {Goes to door L. in background, and hides behind the cur- 
tains, which she closes.) 

Rivers. — What an awkward situation wo are in! {About to follow Pauline.) 

Pauline {looking out from behind the curtains) —Don't come in here! what 
would the people say if we were found in here together ? 

Rivers.— But where shall I go ? 

Pauline.— Hide yourself under one of those tables. 

Rivers {crawls under the table R.). — A nice hiding place, I declare! 

SECOND SC^ENE. 

Enter Ellen. 

Ellen {coming forward). — Re didn't come yet! I hope Uncle Abe hasn't for- 
gotten to post my letter. My position in this family is becoming almost un- 
bearable, on account oi Pauline's jealousy and the behavior of Mr. Chase 
towards me, which I understand but too well. If Fred hasn't got the courage 
to tell his farther the truth I'll have to leave the house, as I really don't know 
what to do in case Mr, Cbasf should grow more importunate {Goes to the 
window R. ) What a beautiful evening it is! Fred will have jfine weather for 
his ride home to-night. What's that? soniebodv is out there in the garden! 



4^2 UNCLE ABE. 

It isn't Fred, though; he is taller— it's Billy! he is cutting flowers again That 
frightful boy will bring himself find me into serious trouble j'et bj' his be- 
havior— for his sake I must also insist on an explanation. But what's the 
matter now ? Billy seems to be alarmed ! — he looks around anxiously !— is 
somebody else coming j^et? My God, he is coming here! if he would see me 
it would be fearful! where can I hide myself? {Goes to door R. in background, 
and hides behind the curtains, ichich F.he closes. 

Pauline observes, dnring tJiis and the following scenes, everything which happeins 
. on the stage, by peeping out from behind the curtain, drawing her head haek 
quickly whenever she thinks that iht person on the stage looks in the direction 
where she is and might see her. Rivers the same, from under the table. 

THIRD SCENE. 

Enter William, icith a bouquet of flowers. 

William. — Oho, if you want to catch me, you bave to be a little quicker!— 
(goes to the window, R.) From here I can overlook the whole garden. I didn't 
certainly climb over that high wall to be caught, and loose my flowers besides. 
If I only knew who it was that was sneaking around in the garden. It's getting 
too dark to rceognize anybody; but I'm pretty sura it was pa, judging by his 
cough. But what can he want out here as late as this ? And then, it seemed 
to me again, as if somebody was trying to open the gate in the garden wall 
from the outside. Anyhow, I'm glad that I'm in here, as it would have been a 
nice row about those flowers if p.i had caught me. — Halloa, somebody comes 
here ; let us try and find a hiding place ! {7-uns to the door L., in the back- 
ground, where Paulineis hid, and opens the curtains.) 

Pauline shids his mouth with her hand, shoves him back, and motions him to be 

quiet. 

William (astonished). - Pauline ! What does that mean? Those footsteps are 
coming nearer. Perhaps I can be witness of an adventure. Let us crawl un- 
der that table (crawls under table, L). 
FiUL-EN observes everything which happens by peeping out fro7n behind the curtain, 

draimng her head back quick whenever she thinks that the person on the stage 

looks in the direction where she is, and might see her. 

Rivers (peeping oxd). -Miserable position this. It seems to me as if there are 
more persons iiTthe room than me. 

WxWxdivn {peeping out from under his /aWe). -Wasn't that a man's voice that 
spoke just now ? 

FOURTH SCENE. 

Enter Frederic, quick. 

Nobody here yet ! How can I let Ellen know that I am here ? The best way 
will be to wait till uncle Abe comes, and send him to tell her. I must see her 
to get an explanation about that strange letter of my father, which I received 



UNCLE ABE. 43 

to-day. [.Takes a lettfrfrom his pocket, and reads.) "Dear Ellen, I have taken 
ii great fancy to you, and am anxious to prove the esteem and veneration I feel 
for you, by providing for your future. Although, as you know, my principles 
lire strictly iu accordance with my position in life, I am willing to abstain 
from them for your sake. But as such an important step, which involves the 
happiness of a whole lifetime, demands due consideration, I would request yon 
by Ihis to grant me an interview for the purpose of exchanging our views on 
he subject." — (Speaks) It's my father's hand and signature, but the letter is 
addressed to me, and the address written by uncle Abe. I'm at a loss what to 
think about it. That letter was most decidedly intended for my wife. But 
how does it come that it is sent to me, by mail ? and addressed to me ? Per- 
haps it was accidentally exchanged. 

{During all this time the same by-play by Ellen, Pauline, Rivers and William. 
Ellen tries to draw the attention of Frederic towards her, hut always hides be- 
hind the curtain when she sees William. 

Frederic (proceeds). — And if this letter is intended for my wife, what does it 
mean ? Has uncle Abe betrayed our secret to my father ? and is he willing to 
give his coasent to our marriage ? — it can be explained this way. Or should 
my father have taken such a fancy to Ellen ihat he intends to marry her him- 
self? as the letter can also be interpreted that way; that's not improbable, as 
Ellen is a very chraming woman, and the fire of old folks is sometimes very 
easily ignited. And why didn't my wife write to me yet ? no letter in four 
days ! All that excited me to such a degree that I came here to-night, even 
without a letter from my wife. I must and will have an explanation of all that 
has happened. If uncle Abe would only come here soon, as waiting in such a 
disposition of mind is like torture ! and yet I'll have to wait patiently till he 
comes, as I don't know of any other way to notify Ellen of my presence, and 
dare not go into the house for fear somebody might see me. But holloa, what 
is that? Isn't somebody coming here? it's uncle Abe, I suppose— but, no! 
it's father, coughing! what is he looking for in the garden, at this time ? By 
Jove, he's coming here! if he sees me I am lost— where can I hide myself? 
{Runs to door R., where Ellen is hid, bid steps back when he sees her.) 

[Ellen shuts his mouth with her hand and pulls him into her hiding place, ] 
William.— What, he hides himself also ! How are we going to get out of this? 
Pauline. — The situation is getting worse every minute. 

Rivers.— I wonder who that was just now ; it is impossible to see or hear 
anything iu this confounded position. 



FIFTH SCENE. 

Enter Mr. Chase, reading his letter good-humoredly. R is beginning 
to get dark. 

Mr. Chase. — "To-night, in uncle Abe's room. — Yours, iu a hurry, — Ellen." 
Well, I never thought I would succeed as easily as this! Generally, girls are 
kind of bashful, but Ellen seems to look at the whole thing in a more sensible 



44 UNCLE ABE. 

light ; may be basbfulness is out of fashion, and girls are different now from 
what they were when I got acquainted with luy deceased wife! — so much the 
better! as too long a courtship wouldn't have suited me at all. But that she 
accepts as quick as this flatters my vanity not a little, for, if she didn't like 
me, she surely wouldn't have come. And how smart she is -that little witch! — 
to select the finest place to be had for a secret interview, as this room is almost 
entirely separated from the other part of the house and has a separate entrance 
from the garden— I'm sure nobody will surprise us here, as uncle Abe quietly 
plays his game of chess at the club, not knowing that his sanctum sandonim is 
made the scene of a rendezvous — what a face he would make if he would come ! 
Ha, ha, ha! But where is Ellen ?— she is not very punctual. 

SIXTH SCENE. 

Uncle Abe, outside in the garden. 

Uncle Abe {scolding).— A nice mess that is! somebody uiust have left the gate 
open, and the dog came in the garden. No wonder that all the flowers are 
spoiled! 

Mr. Chase.— Halloa, there is uncle Abe! he is scolding about the dog, which 
I accidentally must have let into the garden. But what in the world brings him 
home as early as this? — that'll spoil everything. Maybe he only comes for 
something which he forgot, and will go away again soon — I'll hide myself be- 
hind those window curtains so long. {Goes to the window, loosens the curtains, 
and hides behind them.) 

William {peeping out).— 'Now we are caught, all of us ! 

Enter Uncle Abe, carrying two bottles of wine under his arm. 

Uncle Abe. — Nobody here yet ! I thought for sure to find Fred already, be- 
cause I saw the gate in the garden wall open when I passed down the street. 
John must have forgotton to lock it to-night. I'm glad I came in that way in- 
stead of through the house so as to drive out that dog that was making a fear- 
ful havoc amongst our flowers. I locked it now, as Fred can get in any way 
with his key. — Didn't I beat old Ph. Hips in our game of chess to-night ! Ha, 
ha, he was nowheres, and I would have liked very much to Ibllow up my. vic- 
tory by a second game if I didn't think that Fred was here already. And then 
I felt a little uneasy on account of having left my door unlocked for them. — 
It's strange that Ellen isn't here yet, either ! Well, may be they will both 
come very soon, and in the meantime I'll take my ease a little {puts the wine on 
the table under ichich William is concealed, and lights the candle which is on the 
table). There is some wine I brought for Fred, as he may want to refresh him- 
self a little after his ride. — I guess I'll put on my slippers and my nightgown, 
and then smoke a cigar till they come. — What'ts that ? Who closed the curtiiins 
of my bedroom, I wonder ? — Nonsense ! in a weather and heat like this, a per- 
son wants as much fresh air as he possibly can get. That's one of those foolish 
whims of the chambermaid again, I suppose The curtains of the window and 
closet are closed also. What foolishness ! {goes to door L , in the background, 
for the purpose of opening the curtains. ) 



UNCLE ABE. 45 

Mr. Chase {peeping out from behind the window-curtains). — I hope he wouldn't 
stay home ; that would be a uice thing ! :^ Draws hack.) 

Pauline {peeping out— to Uncle Abe, in a whisper'). For God's sake keep 
qiiief. 

Uncle Abe (astoinshed, looking around in amazement, and coming forward a few 
steps — in an undertone). — By Jove, Pauline is in there ! — How does she come 
there? and why shall I keep quiet ? Is somel^ody else here yet? {Goes on his 
tiptoes to door i?., in background, trying io open that curtain.) 

Ellen looks out, and motions him to keep quiet. 

Uncle Abe {coming fonci:inl).--Fi\nVuie sa.v Ellen go lo my room, and followed 
her to find out wLat she was about, and for that purpose hid herself in my bed- 
room. Ellen, noticing that, has hid herself in the closet, and now they both 
don't know how to get out without seeiug each other. — Whom shall I help? 
H'm, I gness I'll sit down and drink a gla.ss of wine, apparently unconcerned, 
and let them get out the best way they can. {Oofs to table L., under ichich 
AViLLiAM is concealed. In sitting down, he knocks with his foot against William, 
and jumps up, frightened. ) What's that ? Somebody under that table also ? 
Perhaps it's a thief, that has sneaked in here while the garden gate was open, 
which frightened Ellen and Pauline, and forced the girls to hide themselves. — 
Let us see, {Goes over to R., and around table R., watching table L. all the time, 
as if to find oid who is concealed under it, thereby passing the window with his 
back, where he knocks against Mr. Cuf^H^— jumping forward, icith a light shriek 
to centre of stage.) The devil, there is another one ! What shall I do ? {chuck- 
ling) Ha-ha-ha, — no— no, they are no thieves — at least, the}' don't want to 
steal anything. But what is to be done ? I guess the best thing for me is to 
make believe that I leave the room, amd then hide myself somewhere, also, 
until they are all out again. It's their business to find the best way out, as 
they found it in. {Goes with great noise and ostentation to the door, opeyis and 
shuts it noisily, as if he went out, and then sneaks on tiptoes behind the sofa^ 
where he hides himself also. All others peep out carefully from behind the curtains 
and then draic their heads back again. 

William. — If I could only, sneak away without anybody seeing me! I'll try. 
Perhaps father is gone, and I'll get out safe. {Looks around carefully.) 
Mr. Chase, peeping out from behind the curtain, sees William. 

William {seeing that he is delected by his father, in a dejected tone). —Good eve- 
ning, father. 

Mr. Chase.— What are you doing there? 

William {embarrassed). — ! — I— it is only a joke. 

Mr. Chase {stepping out from behind the curtain). — Come out here, sir! 
William crawls out from under the table. 

Mr. Chase.— What does all this mean? 

William.- Nothing, father. 

Mr. Chase.— I.thought you are in your room, studying your lessons ?— but, 
instead of that, you were in he the garden again, I suppose? Didn't I forbid 
you to go there in the evening ? 



46 UNCLE ABB. 

William.— Father— I— 

Mr. Chase (severely). — The truth, sir, if you don't want me to punish you se 
verely! I hope that you were not about to steal flowers again, and, on account 
of being surprised, hid yourself in here? 

William.— To be sure not, father; I was about- to — 

Mr. Chase. -Well ? 

William.— To— oh, it was only a joke! I was about to surprise Pauline. 

Mr. Chase. — Pauline! where is she? 

William (2)ointing to PaiiUne's hiding place). — In there. 

Mr. Chase. — In there! let me see, [Goes iheieand opens the curtains.) 

Pauline {steps out, very much embarrassed). — Good evening, father. 

Mr. Chase. — What does this mean? what are you doing here? 

Pauline.— I— I — 

Mr. Chase.— I, I! what is the reason you stammer ? — that's very suspicious. 

Pauline.— But nothing bad, dear father. 

Mr. Chase.— And surely nothing good, either, or you wouldn't hesitate to 
give me an upright answer. Tell me the truth immediately, if you don't want 
me to believe the worst. 

Pauline (m the greatest embarrassment). — I — I was going to watch Miss Ellen 
— no, Frederic! 

Mr. Chase.— Miss Ellen! Frederic! where are they? 

Pauline [pointing to Ellen and Fred's hiding place).— In there. 

Mr. Chase.— Fred and Ellen ?— impossible! Come out, if you are in there. 

Ellen and Fkedeeic step out from their hiding place. 
Mr. Chase.— Really, there they are! Why are you not at the cotton, mill, sir? 
Frederic. — Pardon, dear father! 

Mr. Chase. — And you. Miss Ellen, hid in there with my son — what shall I 
think of you ? 

Pauline (pinc/iinj7 William's arm-aside). — Such a nasty young scamp, to be- 
tray me. 

William {aside, to Pauline).— Everybody tries to got out of the scrape as good 
as possible. '* 

Mr. Chase. — All silent ! No answer ! 

Frederic {aside to Pauline). — You ought to be ashamed of yourself to betray 
me like this. 

Pauline {aside, to Feed). — Everybody tries to get out of the scrape as good as 
possible. 

Mr. Chase. — I see that my present inquiry is of no use.— Where is uncle 
Abe ? He must know about all this, as without his knowledge and consent no- 
body could get into his room. 

Pauline {quickly). — Yes, pa ; uncle Abe can explain everything to you. 



UNCLE ABE. 47 

Frederic.-Uucl. Abe knows all. ( y, /^^,. 
Ellen. Uncle Abe knows besf. \ •' 

Mr. Chase. - But where is be ? 

William {icho saw Uncle Abe before). — There he is behind the sofa. 
Uncle Abe {comes out from behind the sofa, rubbing his hands in embarrassment. ) 
— Gnod evening, cbildren. 

All, in ashmishmeni. 
Oh, uncle Abe ! 
Uncle Abe {comimj forward —sloidy). — Yes, here I am 

Mr. Chase {to Uncle Abe). — Will you explain to me, then, how — ? ] 
Frederic— You know ever3'thing, so explain. [Almost 

Ellen. — Our hope depends upon you. \ together. 

Pauline. —You can dnvw us all out of our embarrassment. J 

Uncle Abe. -You demand pretty much of me at once. 

Pauline, Fred, William and Ellen, together. 

Please, dear uncle Abe ! 

Uncle Abe.— All right, then ! If you want me to explain, I must first ask you 
liow do you all come into my room ? Silence ! — Well, then, I must ask one 
after the other. — Billy, how did you come in here ? 

William. — Uncle Abe, I am the youngest of all, and as old age must always 
have the preference, I wish you would also begin to interrogate the eldest one 
here first. 

Uncle Abe. — All right, then. Let the oldest one speak first {looking around 
embarrassed). Mr. Chase, you are the oldest — and I don't know if — 

Mr. Chase {motioning Uncle Abe to come to his side, and then says to him in 
an undertone). — Keep quiet ; don't you know that I have written to Ellen, ask- 
ing her to grant me an interview for the purpose of finding out what she 
thought about a marriage with me ; and didn't you give her the letter yourself ? 
She answered on my letter by appointing an interview in your room to-night. 

Uncle Abe {astonished). — Ellen? — Impossible ! 

Mr. Chase {gives him a letter). -There, read yourself. 

Uncle Abe. — How does this letter come into your hands ? 

Mr. Chase. — Why, didn't you give it to me ? 

Uncle Abe. -I? But that letter is intended for Fred. 

Mr. Chase. — For Fred? --Well. then, how does Ellen come to write such let- 
ters to my son ? 

Uncle Abe {embarrassed). — PtTha[)S it wasn't inttiidod for Fred, either ? 

Mr. Chase. -Oh, yes! it was for him, and that fact is proved by Ellen and 
Fred being hefe to-night. ' The letter must have been exchanged with another 
one, and by change got into my hands. 

Uncle Abe (/yvV//(/ertecZ).— Exchanged! But where is the other one? 

Mr. Chase. AYhioh other one ? 



48 UNCLE ABE. 

Uncle Abe {aside, not knowing what to do). — That is a nice mess! But who 
has the letter Mr. Boyd brought ? 

Mr. Chase (aloud). -I don't know what I shall think of the whole affair! In 
what relation is Miss Ellen to my son, giving her the right to send him such 
letters ? and what other letter is that, which you said I should have in place 
of this one ? I want an answer to all that, Uncle Abe ? 

Uncle Abe (aside). —Now comes the catastrophe. {Aloud) But. if you have 
got this letter. Frederic must liavo got a wrong one also. 

Frederic. — Certainly; a letter which was entirely unintelligible to me, and 
which was the reason that I came here to-night. {Gives uncle Abe the letter.) 

Uncle Abe {aside, lohile taking the letter from i'l-ed).— Thanks to God; Mr. 
Boyd's letter didn't get into the wrong hands, after all! {Aloud, ichile opening 
the letter) Here you iire, Mr. Chase — the devil! what is this again ? 

Mr. Chase {taking the letter, in an undertone to uncle Abe). — That's my letter to 
Miss Ellen. 

Uncle Abe {bluffed). — So it seems. 

Mr. Chase. — And addressed to my son, in your handwriting? {Returns the 
letter to Uncle A be. ) 

Uncle Abe {looking at the letter, bewildered). — Yes, yes; that's so! 

Mr. Chase. — The whole affair is getting more mysterious at every minute. 

Frederic. — I could give that letter only one explanation, dear father — and 
that was that uncle Abe had told you everything about Ellen and me, and that 
you wanted a private interview with Ellen for this reason: to tell her yourself 
that you had no prejudice against her being a girl without means, and, con- 
sequently, no objections to our marriage. 

Mr. Chase. — What, ngainst yotir marriage with Miss Ellen? 

Uncle Abe [having during this time read the letter of Mr. Chase, aside to Mr. 
Chase) —For God's sake say yes, as that's the best veay to draw yourself out of 
the snare. They were married secretly, long ago. Fred broiight Ellen into 
your family, as housekeeper, for the purpose of winning your affections; she 
has succeeded only too well. Luckily, this letter can be interpreted in two 
ways. Do you want to tell them that you meant to propose your hand to Ellen 
by it ? that you have come here on account of having thought that she con. 
sented to it? If that becomes known, you will be laughed at. 

Mr. Chas?. — A miserable position I am in. 

\inc\e fibe {always whispering to Mr. Chase). -If you considered Miss Ellen 
fit to be your wife, you can have no objections against her as your daughter- 
in-law, or else you stamp yourself as acting under the influence of jealousy 
and malice. So you had better say yes, and by that drag j-ourself out of 
the sn!),re. 

Mr. Chase. — You are right ; there is nothing else left for me to do. {Aloud to 
Ellen and Fkederic) To be sure, did uncle Abe tell me everything ; and al- 
though I should be angry — 

Uncle Abe has, during this time, gone to Ellen and Fred, and shoved them 
towards Mk. Chase. 



[TNCr.E ARE. 49 

Frederic. / _jy^^^. f^^^iier, you forgi,vq? 
Ellen. \ 

Mr. Chase {putting their hands together).— \Niih ail my Leiirt ! 

^''p^®*''°- ^ — Thaulcs/ailionsmdtlianks ! \ 

Ellen. .\ -. -:■: . - ■ ,■ :-y ■ ' -■■ ^ -■ - -■ . 

iWr. Chase.— Fntiei- the coudition, though, that, as I will not send Fred to 

the cottou-inill again, y()u have to stay in my house as housekeeper, ami must 
not forget to love the old father a little bit, besides your young husband. 

Ellen. -Oh, yon shall be content with me. 

Frederic— We will do all we can to make life pleasant for you. 

Uncle Abe [joyoKsly).- Settled satisfactorily at last ! Ha-ha-ha ! 

Ellen {to Pauline). — Dear sister ! 

Pauline. — Can you forgive my rude behavior ? 

Ellen and Pauline embrace and kiss each oihtr. 

Mr. Chase {to Pauline). — But now you must tell me what your business was 
in here. 

Uncle Abe. — And above all, as the letters have been exchanged, I must have 
the right, one in my pocket yet. ( Takes a letter from his pocket) — Indeed, 
there it is. Oh, how glad I am that 1 didn't loose it. 

Mr. Chase.— What letter is that? 

Uncle Abe.-iThe one Mr. Boyd gave me for you ; that is the one T intended 
to give you {in an undertone) when I gave you Ellen's letter to Fred. ' - ' ■ 

Mr. Chase.— And now I get that letter by far too late for a satisfactory ar- 
rangement of the cotton business.— But let me see, anj'how, what he writes. 
\^Opens the letter)— 'Wh&i'ii that? (Reads) "I have wronged you '; come into 
the garden to-night, as arranged. I hope to reconcile you. Yours, for ever, 
Pauline." 

Pauline {a^ide to Uncle Abe).— What did j^ou do ? That is my letter. 

Uncle Abe eW'#ed).- Your letter? • -; 

Mr. Chase.— What is this, Pauline ? For whom is this letter intended ? 

Pauline. — For— 

Mr. Chase. -Well? 

Pauline {t}ashfuily).— For Mr. Rivers. 
, ..Mr. Chase.— For Mr. Rivers? So there is another love affair behind my 
>^''-back,eh? -A rendezvous !-Well, I'll settle that afterwards. First, I want to 
know of yoh now, uncle Abe, where that letter from Mr. Boyd is ? 

Uncle Abe {dejectedly). —1 really don't knO)\y. ; Fni; entirely, confounded., 

Mr. Chase.— But don't you know that the letter was very important; 3\nd 
can't you recollect to whom you gave it, or where it is? . ".- .:;: :; ,-;,■ 

Rivers {craK;lin<f miCfnmi under the t able ):-^If yon please, sii%f haive got il. 

All, in astonishment. 
Rivers V 



50 UNCLE ABE. 

William (aside).— Another one ? May be there is oue behind the bed yet. I'll 
go and look. {Looks around in the room, then goes to Ellen and speaks with 
her, as if begging her to forgive him. ) 

Mr. Chase.— How do you come here, sir, explain ? 

Rivers.— The letter yon hold in your hand, sir, and which called me here, 
was intended for me, but, instead of that oue, uncle Abe gave me this one. I 
opened it, and found the news about the cotton. You will not blame me for 
it, that I, as a business man, made use of such an important i^iece of news as 
best as I could. I have bought the cotton of Jones & Co. in Baltimore, and, 
as the price is going up steadily, the sale of it at the i)roper time will make me 
a rich man, whom you will surely not refuse the hand of your daughter. Bnt, 
as the letter was intended for you, which I couldn't know, because it had no 
address written on it, I am ready to share the profit of the business with you, 
if you desire. 

Mr. Chasse.— Uncle Abe, what did you do again ! 

Uncle Abe. — Give him the girl, and the profit of the cotton business will stay 
entirely in the family. Pauline loves him, and he has proved to be a smart 
business man. 

Pauline.— Please, father, consent! | 

Rivers. — I love Pauline most fervently ! >■ Almost together. 

Frederic. - Don't refuse, pa, please ! ) 

Mr. Chase.— All right, then. That cotton job was a smart piece of business 
of yours, and you shall have the girl as a reward for your shrewdness. 

Paiflfne \ ^'^^y' ^^^y thanks, dear father ! 

William. — And I luckily got out pf the scrape without being bruised. 

Uncle Abe {wiping his forehead). — Two happy couples! — iwho would have 
thought of that this forenoon ? 

Mr. Chase. — But the whole confusion has been created by uncle Abe- 
Frederic— Because he didn't keep silent — 

Pauline. — And betrayed everything and everybody. 

Uncle Abe. —About which you oughtn't to growl at me, though, as everything 
turned out right, alter all. You packed too many secrets on my poor shoulders 
— they were entirely too heavy for me to carry. 

Mr. Chase.— But the letters! what mischief couldn't they have created? 

Uncle Abe {to Hie public). — Didn't I tell you before that a fearful confusion 
would arise if, by chance, the letters were exchanged? I'm only glad that 
everything came out good at the end. 

Ihe curtain drops. 



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